


200 Things I'm Not Allowed to do at Hogwarts

by selenehekate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-09-29 08:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenehekate/pseuds/selenehekate
Summary: It's Fred and George's last year at Hogwarts, so naturally they want to break the rules... and get Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny involved! Their list of 200 things they shouldn't do, but will do anyway. Told in snippets.Originally written and published on ff.net in 2009.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally posted on ff.net in 2009 as 150 Things I'm not allowed to do at Hogwarts; the list was amended to 200 in 2013.
> 
> I'm making the migration from ff.net to a03, however, so I'm beginning the process of moving this story over. The story is almost ten years old (fucking hell) and has received over 1200 reviews; I'd like for it to keep living here.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny hurried down the center aisle of the Hogwarts Express, looking for an empty compartment to call their own. School would start in a few short hours, and the end-of-summer blues were starting to take their toll on the foursome. Though Hermione enjoyed education, even she had to admit that given the war-charged atmosphere that Voldemort's resurrection had created left an unsavory feeling for those attending Hogwarts that year.

Ginny threw open the door of a compartment near the back of the train, only to find her brothers on the other side. Their heads were bent towards each other over a piece of parchment as they whispered quickly, their eyes gleaming.

"Sorry, but - oh. Hey Fred. George," Ginny said her eyes narrowing in suspicion. With the Weasley twins, anything could be afoot. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," Fred said innocently, giving the group a dazzling smile as George shoved the parchment behind his back.

"You haven't been gambling again, have you?" Ron asked as he placed his trunk in the overhead compartment. He turned to help Hermione with hers. "Mum and Dad will kill you."

"Of course not, baby brother," Fred said, scoffing at the accusation. With a slight pause, however, Ron's older brother seemed to reconsider. "Actually," he said glancing towards George. "I think you may be of some use to us..."

"Oh no!" Hermione was quick to cut in. "We most certainly do  _not_  want to be involved in whatever lunatic plot you two have come up with-"

"Lunatic," George said with a frown. "Now you're hurting our feelings, Hermione. It's not lunatic at all."

"It's actually quite brilliant," Fred added.

"Well of course  _you'll_  say that," Hermione snapped. "Whatever it is, it's bound to be dangerous-"

"Dangerous?" George said with a chuckle. "Give us a little bit of credit, Hermione."

"We aren't  _stupid_ , you know," Fred finished.

Hermione looked as though she wanted to argue, but Harry interrupted her with a sigh. "Well, go on then. What is it?"

Fred beamed, thrilled that they had taken the bait. "Seeing as this is our last year at Hogwarts," he began.

George continued on his behalf. "We wanted to go out with a bang."

"And so we came up with a list."

"Two hundred things we're not allowed to do at Hogwarts," the twins said in unison.

"What  _kind_ of list?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why, naturally, it's two hundred rules we're going to break before the year is over," Fred explained.

"And we think it would be brilliant if you'd help us out."

Silence ensued as the Golden Trio (and Ginny) exchanged weary glances, not exactly sure how to respond. The twins wanted their assistance in  _breaking rules?_ They'd never needed help with that before, and Hermione Granger wasn't exactly known for breaking the rules. For Ginny however, the answer was obvious. "I'm in," she said with a grin, high-fiving her brothers in turn.

"Excellent!" The twins turned simultaneously toward the other Weasley child. "Ron? What about you?"

"Break rules? Are you mad?" Hermione asked, shaking her head before Ron could open his mouth.

"Nothing  _too_  bad," George coaxed. "Just a few small pranks."

"Something to lighten up the year with," Fred continued. "It's a dark time, after all. Some humor will be good for student morale."

"You probably won't even be able to get a detention with this, let alone expelled."

Hermione snorted. "I highly doubt that."

"Come on, Hermione," George said, raising his eyebrows.

She bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. "No one will get hurt?" Hermione asked.

Fred shrugged. "There may be some mental scarring, but we doubt any physical pain will come from this game of ours."

"Do we get to play pranks on Malfoy?" Harry inquired.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"In that case," Ron laughed. "We're in!"

"Excellent, this is-"

"Hold on a moment!" The five celebrating teenagers turned to the killjoy of the group. Hermione stood straight, her eyes narrowed, as she quickly thought this through. Finally she sighed. "I suppose I'm in-"

"Yes!"

"But only because this is your last year here! Don't expect any favors from me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," George said with a grin.

"There's just one catch," said Fred.

"I knew it," Hermione muttered.

"It's nothing bad," George said, holding up his hands in a stop-that-negative-thinking gesture.

"Just that we can't give you the entire list beforehand," Fred said.

"We'd like to keep the element of surprise, if you don't mind," George added.

"And we find that by giving people that much information, things tend to..." Fred exchanged a glance with George.

"Leak out," his twin finished for him.

"Fine," Ron said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "Where do we start?"

And just like that, the end-of-summer blues and stirring national conflict suddenly seemed so far away from these six plotting students, despite the fact that it existed throughout the rest of the train. It would be an interesting year.


	2. Numbers 1–10

_1\. I will not tell the first years who are waiting to be sorted that in order to be sorted, you must confess your deepest secrets aloud while wearing the hat._

Hermione Granger was nervous. She had every right to be, really. After all, it's not every day that she actively took part in rule breaking  _for no good reason_. Truthfully, she had no idea  _why_  she was doing this; what could be gained? True, Hogwarts morale was strikingly low, yet she still faced doubts that improving morale was a good reason to actively break rules. But doing it she was, and so she sat in the Great Hall with Ron, Fred, Ginny, and Harry - waiting...

Her leg was jiggling with nerves, and she couldn't resist the odd glance back at the double doors every now and then. Ron rolled his eyes. "Would you relax? Everything is going to be fine."

"He's not back yet," she muttered, her eyes wide with worry. "He should be back by now."

"He's fine, Hermione."

"What if George has been caught? What if we're in trouble? What if-"

"Hermione, if you keep acting like we should be in trouble, they'll catch us," Fred said with a roll of his eyes. "Just calm down. Relax."

"But-"

Hermione was interrupted, however, as George slipped into a seat beside his twin. "You get it?" Fred asked, raising a brow.

"Easy," George said, dropping a wink.

Hermione, though, was still concerned. "But-"

She was cut off, however, as the double doors opened and McGonagall entered, leading the first years waiting to be sorted into the room. They paraded down the center aisle and up to the head table. McGonagall set the stool and the sorting hat down, and before long, she began calling out names. "Anderson, Maria."

A timid little Spanish girl stepped to the hat, reached up, placed it on her head, and - "I sleep with a nightlight!" she shrieked, much to the surprise of the crowd.

The rest of the hall burst out laughing, surprised by Maria's unnecessary admission. The hat declared her a Hufflepuff, though, so with pursed lips, McGonagall ignored her outcry and called up the next student, "Atticus, Carl."

One by one, the students went up, confessing secrets like stealing from their parents, bullying their siblings, and cheating on their girlfriends. "Cheating?" Ron scoffed. "With what? A bloody kiss? They're  _eleven_."

"That's it!" McGonagall snapped, glaring at the first years. Mandy Klein had just admitted to breaking her brother's bicycle, and that was apparently enough for the Transfiguration professor. "What are you  _doing_?"

"Being sorted," Mandy muttered, her cheeks turning red.

" _Why_  are you saying these...  _things_?"

"Someone told us to," a brave boy from the lineup said, stepping forward. "He said that in order to be sorted into the correct house, we had to confess a deep secret while we were wearing the hat."

McGonagall's nostrils flared. " _Who_  told you such stupidity?"

The boy shrugged. "He said his name was Draco Malfoy."

* * *

_2\. Staring a betting pool on the fate of this year's DADA teacher is tasteless and tacky, not a clever money-making scheme._

Umbridge entered her classroom on the first day of classes to find her current students - the fifth years - all huddled around a desk, staring down at something.  _Well_ _that certainly won't do_ , Umbridge thought to herself. She hurried forward, broke into their circle, and snatched the paper away from them. A redhead boy protested, but she cut him off. "Now, now. We don't keep any secrets in this classroom," she said in her too sweet voice.

Glancing down, she began to read the parchment, and then she froze, her eyes growing wide.

_How will the curse take out Umbridge?_

_-Trampled by a Hippogriff: F & G Weasley_

_-Sacked: G Weasley, Patil, Patil, F & G Weasley, Granger_

_-Set on fire: Thomas, Finch-Fletchley, Longbottom_

_-Turns out to be one of Voldemort's Minions: R Weasley, Potter_

_-Poisoned: Lovegood, Jordan_

_-Death by Basilisk: Johnson, Bell, Abbott_

_-Resignation: Granger, Brown, Spinnet_

_-Potions accident: Potter, Longbottom, Jordan_

_-Gruesome beheading: Jordan, F & G Weasley, G Weasley, Patil_

_-Murdered by Snape: R Weasley, Finnigan_

_-Other: Potter, R Weasley, Granger, Thomas, Lovegood, Bell, Spinnet, Jordan, Finnigan_

Umbridge looked up at the smiling students staring back at her, terror flowing through her body.

* * *

_3\. Asking "When are we going to learn to saw a lady in half?" is not appropriate._

Ginny sat in the back of her first Transfiguration class of the year as McGonagall began her customary speech about turning in homework and studying for exams. It was a terribly dull speech - sure, it had been rather intimidating the first time she'd heard it, but the  _fourth_ time? No, it was more annoying than anything.

"I expect nothing less than perfection from all of you," she said briskly, her voice coming out rough. "You're fourth years now. It's time to start paying attention and  _studying._  It won't be long before your OWLs arrive, and then you must make a decision about your career paths. I suggest you start thinking about them now..." she trailed off as a hand shot into the air. McGonagall gave a sigh, but called on the girl anyway. It was Ginny Weasley, after all. How bad could it be? "Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"Professor, when are we going to learn how to saw a lady in half?"

McGonagall's eyebrows shot up. Apparently, it could be  _very_  bad.

* * *

_4\. I am not allowed to hand out red shirts to all of the DADA professors and say they are standard uniform._

Hermione took a deep breath, clutching the red collared shirt to her chest. She could do this. It was the beginning of the year - Umbridge wouldn't know her name yet. She wouldn't get in trouble. She could  _do_  this!

With new resolve, she pushed through the door and strode quickly into Umbridge's classroom. The old toad looked up as she entered, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. "Yes, my dear?"

"Here you go, Professor," Hermione said, thrusting the shirt into the lady's arms.

Umbridge blinked, looking down at the shirt disdainfully. "Um... my dear, what is-"

"It's your uniform," Hermione said quickly, raising her chin. She hoped  _desperately_ that she looked confident. "All Defense teachers must wear them."

"I don't understand-"

"The red shirt means you're dispensable. As all of our Defense teachers are," Hermione said with a nod. Then she turned on her heel and hurried out of the room before a horror-stricken Umbridge could regain her composure.

* * *

_5\. I will not hum the Darth Vader theme whenever Snape enters the room._

The door to the potions classroom  _slammed_  open, and Snape swept into the room. His dark eyes were set straight ahead, a glare on his face. His robes billowed ominously behind him as he made his way to the front of the room, and a hush fell over his fifth year students as they prepared for their first potions class of the year-

_"Dun dun dun dun da-dun dun da-dun."_

Snape stopped, his eyes darting quickly to the sides. He searched for the culprit of the noise, but the moment he stopped walking, the humming stopped too. Cautiously, he began to move once more.

" _Dun dun dun dun da-dun dun da-dun."_

This time, however, Snape knew  _exactly_ where the noise was coming from. "Thirty points from Gryffindor  _each_ , Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter. And if I hear your voices again today, I'll take thirty more."

* * *

_6\. There is not now, nor has there ever been, a fifth house at Hogwarts, and I am not its founder._

"Step right up! One and all!"

"Come and join our new house: the Procro house!"

"It's for everyone! The tall!"

"The short!"

"The brave!"

"The cowardly!"

"The Gryffindors!"

"The... Well, it's not really for the Slytherins. It's for everyone  _but_  the Slytherins."

"So if you're not a Slytherin, come on down!"

"You can _not_  create your own house," McGonagall said, snatching the flyers from Fred and George's hands. "That is  _not_  allowed."

"But Professor," George protested. "We're trying to unite the school-"

"-under one house that has one unified goal!"

"Really? And what might that goal be?"

Fred and George exchanged glances and smiled. "Procrastination," they said together.

"No!"

* * *

_7\. I will not tell Ron and Hermione to "get a room" whenever they start to fight._

"You can't just order them about, Ron!" Hermione said with a glare as the trio climbed a staircase on their way to Charms.

"They're  _first years_ , Hermione! It doesn't matter-"

"They're still people! Just because they're younger than us, that doesn't mean their feelings don't matter!"

"Would you two stop bickering please?" Harry muttered. "It's right annoying."

But his friends just ignored them. "I'm a prefect, Hermione. I have every right to tell the first years to go to bed-"

" _If_  they're out past curfew. But if they're just sitting in the common room playing exploding snap, then no you don't!"

"They were being loud!"

"It doesn't matter!"

"But-"

"No!"

"Hermione!"

"No!"

"I-"

"No!"

"Oh will you two just get a room already!" Harry shouted, before storming off in the direction of the classroom and leaving his two bewildered best friends behind.

* * *

_8\. I will not teach first years how to play chicken with the Whomping Willow._

Ginny walked out to the front lawn one Saturday to find Fred and George sitting in the grass, staring off into the distance, and laughing hysterically. She raised an eyebrow.  _This can't be good,_  she thought to herself as she made her way down to them. "What are you two doing?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Fred and George, however, did not cease their laughter. Instead, they pointed off to the right, where the Whomping Willow stood...

Ginny let out a groan, for there stood three idiot first year Gryffindors. They were all trying to get as close as possible to the Whomping Willow without getting hurt. "What did you do?"

"We taught them how to play chicken," Fred said with a laugh.

"It's quite amusing," George added.

As one first year got smacked from behind, however, all Ginny could do was shake her head. "Idiots."

Fred's brow furrowed. "Them or us?"

"Both."

* * *

_9\. I will stop asking when we will learn to make "Love Potion Number Nine"._

"Professor, I have a question I need to ask you," Hermione said, swallowing slightly. It was one thing to pull one of Fred and George's jokes on Umbridge; it was another thing entirely to do so with  _Snape_.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly dreading her question. "What could you possibly want to know, Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath, suddenly grateful that she had waited until after class ended. "Are we going to learn how to make Potion Number Nine this year?"

Snape blinked, surprised. "What _are_ you going on about?"

"It's a love potion," she continued, a faint blush raising to her cheeks.  _Great,_  she thought.  _Now he's going to think I'm too pathetic to get a date on my own_. "Love Potion Number Nine."

To her surprise, however, Snape rolled his eyes. "I never would have pegged you as one to make jokes, Miss Granger."

She was taken aback by his lack of hostility. "What?"

"Love Potion Number Nine? The Muggle song, yes? By the Clovers?"

"How did you-"

"I  _did_  grow up in a Muggle town, Miss Granger," Snape said with a shake of his head. "And you'd do well to remember that before you try any such prank again."

"Yes Professor," Hermione said, her voice raising an octave.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said. Then he shook his head. "I  _should_  take off more than that, but it's not often Muggle music is so  _poorly_  quoted to me. I find it amusing." Then his eyes narrowed. "However I  _won't_  find it amusing a second time. Is that clear?" She gave a quick nod. "Good. Now leave my sight."

* * *

_10\. I will not scare the Arithmancy students with my Calculus book._

"What is it?"

"What's that squiggly line? We've never used that squiggly line!"

"Sin? What does sinning have to do with Arithmancy?"

"I don't like this... Too many letters... There aren't supposed to be letters in this course, Granger!"

"It's not that bad," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. However her classmates continued to converse as though she hadn't spoken about the evils of her Calculus book.

"It has to go! We have to get rid of it."

"I say we burn it!"

"Whoa, now. Wait a minute-" Hermione protested. But it was too late. The angry Arithmancy students were already tearing the book apart, throwing the pages in the air, and setting them ablaze. All Hermione could do was watch in horror. Her jaw tweaked as she glared at her classmates. "Fred and George owe me a new book," she muttered.


	3. Numbers 11–20

_11\. I will not say "I see dead people" whenever a ghost is in the room._

Harry Potter was an absolute mess, and his classmates were beginning to take notice. Never before had they seen the so-called savior of the wizarding world so out of sorts - it was all very disconcerting.

He couldn't help it, though. No matter where he went, he was distracted. On his way to potions class, Dean noticed his apprehension. In the Great Hall one morning, Colin spotted his nervousness. As Harry was climbing the stairs one afternoon, Neville spotted his distracted persona as Harry tripped over his own shoelace. Finally that night, Dean and Neville decided to confront the boy. "Harry, what's wrong, mate? Why are you so... I don't know-" Dean started.

But Harry interrupted him, his eyes wide with fear. "I can't say... It's much too frightening."

"Just spit it out, Harry," Neville whispered in awe. "We're here for you. Whatever it is-"

"You can't understand!"

"We can! You just have to trust us!"

"All right, then. Dean, Neville..." Harry said with a shake of his head. "I... I see dead people!"

* * *

_12\. Polishing my wand in the common room is acceptable. "Polishing my wand" in the common room is not._

Katie Bell's eyes went wide as she read the flyer that lay on the dining table in the Great Hall. Her hands began to shake as she picked it up, fear and bile churning in her stomach.  _No, no_ , she thought to herself.  _This can't be right. There has to be some sort of mistake._ But she couldn't understand how she could possible be mistaken. It was as plain as day on the flyer before her. She briefly shut her eyes before she glanced down at the paper again. It read:

_Wand polishing party in the common room at nine tonight! Boys only! Attire: as informal as can be. Bring only your wands and plenty of lubricant!_

"I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered. A phallic-shaped shadow rested in the upper right hand corner of the flyer. She wanted to just go back to the library - to wait until this "polishing party" was over - but curfew was quickly approaching. She had no choice. She had to go in.

Bracing herself, she pushed open the door to the common room, strode in - expecting the worst - and...

She stopped, her eyes wide. For there, sitting in a circle in the middle of the common room, sat seven Gryffindor boys... polishing their wands.  _Literally._

"Hey, Katie," Fred called out with a grin. "How was the library?"

"Fine," she responded absentmindedly. "It was... fine. What are you doing?"

"We're polishing our wands," George said with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly, what does it  _look_  like we're doing?"

"Something  _vastly_ different than what I thought you were doing," she muttered.

"Oh?" George said, raising an eyebrow.

"And what might that be?" Fred asked.

Katie quickly raised both her hands, waving them quickly before her. "Nothing! Nothing at all. Uh, I'm pretty tired, so I'll just... go, I guess," she said as she backed out of the room. Then she turned on her heel and hurried up the girl's tower, murmuring to herself about something "dirty" as Fred and George shared a grin.

* * *

_13\. I'm not allowed to ask Draco Malfoy where he gets his hair done._

Ginny Weasley was sick and tired of waiting in line. It seemed as though she'd been in the bathroom queue that stretched out into the hallway forever, and she couldn't  _stand_  waiting any longer. She had to  _pee_ , dammit! But no, no one would hurry. No one would move out of her way. Instead, the line was being obnoxiously held up as the idiot teenagers in front of her ogled some guy.

Not just any guy, though. It was Draco  _bloody_  Malfoy.

Ginny absolutely  _abhorred_  the attention that Hogwarts's unofficial man-whore was receiving at her expense. So, with a quick sigh, the seething redhead left her precious place in line and stalked over to Draco and the gaggle of girls before him, hoping to take him down a peg. If she scared him off, she could finally pee.

 _Right,_  she thought to herself.  _I'll go for the insult. Here we go._ "Malfoy," she called out, interrupting the flirtations in front of her. The girls in line began to mutter at her brazen move, but Ginny just ignored them.

"Weaslette," Malfoy sneered. "What do you want?"

"Listen," Ginny said, her voice taking on a deadly quiet tone. "I was thinking about dying my hair, and I was wondering where you get yours done. Could you give me the name of the place? They did such a good job making your hair look so unnatural. It's  _exactly_ what I'm going for."

Malfoy stared at her in shock, his eyes wide at her sudden audacity. Internally, Ginny was cackling with glee, imagining what the so-called Slytherin Prince was thinking. He was a  _Malfoy_! Weasley's didn't talk to  _Malfoy's_ that way! She was beneath him, dammit!

Ginny was, therefore, pretty surprised when Malfoy reached into his bag and pulled out his hair salon's business card.

* * *

_14\. Yelling 'To infinity and BEYOND' was only funny the first time I took off on my broom_

It had finally arrived. D-day. The last stop on the train. All or nothing. Make it or break it. Time to step up. Time to play. He was in it to win it. This was his last chance. Go big or go home. The million-dollar match-up. The- Oh, screw it.

It was the day all the students had been waiting for. The day of Quidditch try-outs.

Ron took a deep breath as he mounted his broom.  _Here we go_ , he thought. In seconds he would know if he was good enough to replace Wood as Keeper. In seconds, his dreams would either be made or shattered. He let out his breath and cracked his neck as he mounted the broom.

As he took off, the stunned crowd in the stands heard him scream, "To infinity and BEYOND!" An awkward silence followed. Nobody really knew what to make of that.

* * *

_15\. I am not allowed to enter Honeydukes and demand to see Willy Wonka._

Adam will never forget the day those insane, sugar-crazed Hogwarts students visited Hogsmeade. There the poor bag-boy was, shelving some delicious new treats in Honeydukes when the door suddenly opened with a  _bang_! Turning quickly, Adam had just enough time to see a boy of about fifteen storm through the door with two red-headed twins by his side, before said boy had grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed his back against the counter.

"Where," the boy said tersely, "Is Willy Wonka?"

Adam stuttered, confused. "I don't know what you mean."

"Willy Wonka," one of the twins snapped. "The man who makes all the candy."

"Where is he?" the other twin asked. "We must see him, now!"

"I... I'm sorry," Adam said, shaking his head. "But I'm afraid I don't know-"

"Don't know!" the black-haired boy shrieked, throwing up his hands and releasing his hold on Adam. "That is unacceptable! Do you know who I am?" he screamed, pointing to himself. "Do you?"

Customers were beginning to stare, slowly backing away from the three unstable teenagers. "Sir," Adam said meekly. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"NO!" Harry screamed, placing his hands on his hips in defiance. Adam blinked at the boy in surprise. "I'm not going anywhere until Willy Wonka makes the Oompa Loompas dance!"

* * *

_16\. The next time that I see Rita Skeeter, I am not to threaten her with a can of Raid_

Hermione sat in the Leaky Caldron, anxiously awaiting for her two guests to show up. First to arrive was Harry, tailed by Fred and George as the twins laughed at their latest mishap. Hermione shook her head. She didn't want to know.

As the three boys slid into the booth and ordered drinks, Rita Skeeter arrived, her tight red dress not doing much for her figure. She scowled when she saw Hermione, and made her way over.

"Well," she finally said, sitting down by Harry. "What's this about?"

Hermione smiled angelically. "You're going to write a piece about Harry, and you're going to write exactly what we tell you. If you refuse, we're taking your little... secret to the ministry."

Skeeter pursed her lips, not liking the arrangement at all. Alas, she was powerless to argue. "Fine," she said reluctantly. "How much will you pay me?"

"Absolutely nothing," Fred said with a grin as Harry and George nodded along in agreement.

" _What_? Just why would I do this for free?" Rita asked, crossing her arms.

Hermione pulled a can of Raid out from under the table and aimed the nozzle at the journalist. Rita blinked in surprise. "Because if you don't, I'm going to poison your insect butt. Got it?"

The story appeared two days later.

* * *

17. _I am not allowed to call Hermione's hair a squirrel._

"Hey, Hermione," Ron said as he caught up to his friend in the corridor.

"Oh, hey Ron! There you are. Listen, we need to go over a couple of things before the prefects' meeting tonight," Hermione said as she shifted her books in her arms.

"Oh, do we have to?" Ron groaned. "It seems unnecessary."

"Irresponsible," Hermione muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Well, okay then," he said, an awkward silence engulfing them. Then, Ron smiled. "Your hair looks really nice today, Hermione," he said, glancing at her.

"Really? Well... thanks, Ron," Hermione said, a light blush forming.

"Yeah, it doesn't look like a squirrel sleeping on top of your head anymore," Ron said with a laugh.

Hermione's mouth dropped open as she stopped walking, her eyes wide. "Merlin, I... You... Go to hell, Ron!"

Ron blinked. "What?"

"How  _dare_ you-"

"But it was a compliment!" Ron said weakly. "I didn't mean any harm! It's a good thing-"

"No," Hermione snapped. "No, that's  _not_  a good thing."

"But-"

"Shut up!"

"Hermione-"

" _Shut up_!"

"Get a room!" Fred and George called out as they strolled past the arguing pair, laughing to themselves. The high-fived each other.

"I can't believe Ron was actually thick enough to  _say_  it," Fred muttered to George as they rounded the corner. "I thought for sure we'd have to do  _that_  one ourselves." 

* * *

_18\. "Quidditch Players Do It in the Air" T-shirts are not allowed._

"Step up!"

"Get them while they're hot!"

"Support your Gryffindor Quidditch team!"

"Buy a shirt!"

From behind them, Fred and George Weasley heard a loud sigh. Turning around as one, they saw McGonagall standing there, rubbing her temples as she looked down at the twins. "All right," she said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, Professor," Fred said innocently. "We're just trying to rally support for the big match this weekend."

"That's right, and T-shirts seem to be the way to do it," George added. "We've got to show our Gryffindor pride, after all."

McGonagall nodded to herself and turned as if to walk away, before sharply spinning around back to the twins. "What do they say?" she asked in a clipped tone.

The twins exchanged glances. So close... They turned the shirts they held around so their head of house could see them. The red shirts had a gold Gryffindor lion on the front, and beneath it, it said:

_Quidditch Players Do It In The Air!_

* * *

_19\. I will not put books of Muggle fairy tales in the history section of the library_

Professor Binns was shocked that so many people believed a poison apple was a powerful magical weapon, and he was even more surprised that his students were taking such an interest in fairies. Even more so, he didn't understand why they kept asking how they could apply to have a fairy as a godmother.

When an entire class of his first years failed a test on ancient werewolves - they collectively claimed that they blew down houses and ate grandmothers during the day! - Professor Binns decided to take action.

Upon visiting Madam Pince to ask why that was, however, he found her lecturing Ginny Weasley about leaving her Muggle books in the history section of the library. Professor Binns wasn't upset, though. He was just amazed his students were reading.

* * *

_20\. I am not allowed to make lightsaber noises with my wand._

It was the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army. Harry was nervous about the beginning of his teaching career, and it didn't help that he had so many students watching him as if they expected, well, magic.

"Right," he began. "So, you might have to duel in the future... and, er... it's important that you know how to use your wand." He waved Ron forward, signaling that he wanted to duel him as a demonstration.

The two best friends stepped into the middle of the room, holding their wands at the ready. "So the most important thing..." Harry muttered as they bowed. "It's simple, really..." They looked at each other, concentration across both of the young boys' faces. And then the duel began. " _Schoom!"_

Eyebrows went up as Harry waved his wand around, sending absolutely  _no_  spells toward Ron. "The most important thing is the sound effects." Harry said, waving his wand around again as Ron stared in surprise. " _Schoom!_  That way,  _Sching!_  You can confuse your opponent.  _Sching!_  And do this."

And with that, Harry punched Ron in the nose, proving once again how important the lightsaber noises are to a duel.


	4. Numbers 21–30

_21\. I must not throw Mrs. Norris out windows_

Ginny Weasley was hungry, unusually so. She'd accidentally studied through dinner, and she was way too hungry to wait until morning, so her only option was to sneak down to the kitchens.

That, however, was easier said then done, as she learned the hard way. It wasn't that she got lost, or that she moved too loudly. No, Ginny crept with a silent ease towards the kitchens. The problem was Mrs. Norris.

A loud  _meow_  from behind her alerted Ginny to the presence of Filch's cat. With wide eyes, the girl spun around. She was out farpast curfew. Filch would find her, and a detention would be unavoidable. And all because she wanted to  _eat_. No, she couldn't let that happen! She had to do something...

Without hesitating, Ginny grabbed Mrs. Norris by the scruff of her neck and chucked her out the window. " _Meeeoooww!"_  the cat screeched as she flew through the air.

Ginny, however, just shrugged and continued on her way. She was only on the second story; Mrs. Norris would be fine.

* * *

_22\. I am not allowed to suggest that the Gryffindor team practice by playing Strip Quidditch._

"Oi! That's another one, Ron!"

"Come on now, little brother. Take it off!"

Ron's ears grew red as he unbuckled his pants.  _This_  is what he got for making the Quidditch team! If only Wood was still in charge. Oliver would have had the sense to not take advice from Fred and George. Stupid Angelina...

"What is going on out here?" The team members swooped around on their brooms to find a red faced McGonagall gaping at the seven barely-dressed team members. Most of the members were shirtless. Ron, however, was also without pants.

"New training technique, Professor," Fred said with a grin. "Isn't it brilliant?"

"That's right! You screw up, you strip," George said with a look of innocence.

"It's a new game of ours."

"We think it'll be a sure-fire hit at parties!"

"And," Fred said with a laugh. "it's some extra incentive to try your hardest at practice."

McGonagall couldn't say anything; her face was too red with anger. Instead, all she could do was point the twins towards the castle as Harry and Ginny quaked with silent laughter and Ron put his pants back on.

* * *

_23\. The proper way to report to Professor McGonagall is "You wanted to see me, Professor?" Not "I have it on good authority that you have no evidence."_

McGonagall rubbed her temples in agony. What a day. First the strip Quidditch incident, then Peeves and the dungbombs, and then Umbridge started making decrees... When did her life get so complicated?

There was a knock at her door. "Come in," she said with a sigh. Ron poked his head through the door, looking nervous. "Ah, Mr. Weasley." Perfect. Now McGonagall could congratulate him on making the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and encourage him to try his best and  _not_  listen to the harebrained schemes of those twins.

Before she could open her mouth however, Ron spoke. "Professor," he said, stone-faced. "I have it on good authority that you have no evidence."

Ron left the office five minutes later, having received a detention. McGonagall had no idea what she gave him the detention  _for_ , but she figured he had to have done something to enter her office like that.

* * *

_24\. I will not attempt to confuse Crabbe and Goyle by calling them each other's names._

The conflict escalated to a boiling point. "Lunatic," Crabbe hissed at Harry, his eyes narrowed in distaste as he glared at the Boy Who Lived from across the courtyard.

The Gryffindor's eyes narrowed. "That's not very nice, Goyle."

He blinked. "I'm Crabbe."

"And I'm Goyle!"

"Right," Harry said with a shake of his head. "Apologies, Goyle."

"Crabbe!" Goyle corrected.

"Crabbe?" Harry addressed him.

"No, Goyle!"

"Right, not Goyle. So Crabbe?"

"Goyle!"

"No," Harry said, pointing to Crabbe. " _He's_  Goyle."

"I'm Crabbe!"

"Goyle!" Harry protested.

"Crabbe!"

"Goyle!"

"Crabbe!"

"Crabbe!"

"Im Goyle!" Crabbe shouted. Then he paused, his eyes widening. "Wait."

"That's what I thought," Harry said with a smirk before walking away.

* * *

_25\. I will not refer to the Accio charm as "The Force"_

"Oomph!" Ron breathed as he tripped on the stairs. He dropped his bag, using his hands to break his fall. His book fell down to the floor below, hitting some poor student on the head.

Malfoy laughed. "Nice going, Weasel. Clumsy as Longbottom, are you?"

Ron ignored this, groaning to himself. "Great, now I have to go down and get that!"

Hermione surprised everybody, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, by laying a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Use The Force, Ron."

Ron blinked at her in confusion. "The what?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione pointed her wand at the textbook and the unconscious student beneath it. " _Accio book,_ " she muttered. The book flew up, and she caught it. Handing it to Ron, she said, "The Force."

Everyone gaped at her in wonder. Then, Ron got his wits back. "Isn't that the Accio charm?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's The Force."

"But I thought-"

"You're wrong."

"But-"

"Wrong."

"How can you say-"

"Will you two just get a room already?" Harry shouted over his shoulder as he left the bickering pair behind.

* * *

_26\. I will not attempt to fuse the rules of chemistry with those of potions._

"Next," Professor Snape continued in his lecture one dull Monday. "You will add the billywings to the first mixture-" He stopped suddenly, sighing as Hermione's hand shot into the air. "What now, Miss Granger?"

"Professor, I don't mean to criticize, but I think you're wrong," Hermione said in a condescending tone.

Snape's eyebrow rose. "And how, pray tell, am I - the teacher - incorrect?" The Slytherin's around him chuckled maliciously, anticipating a scathing verbal lashing from their head of house.

"Well," Hermione began, "first of all, there's the molecular structure of the billywings. With molecular structure, like dissolves like, so if the mixture is nonpolar - as I suspect it is - then adding the billywings will be completely useless since they are nonpolar as well. They'll just dissolve." The mouths of her classmates dropped open. That was  _not_  what they'd been expecting.

"Secondly," Hermione continued, "the mixture is most definitely acidic; you can tell that just by looking at it. From past experiences, I've noticed that the billywings create an acidicness as well, meaning the potion won't neutralize. And since it's for digestion... don't you think the potion should neutralize?"

The dumbfounded Slytherins turned eagerly to Professor Snape, awaiting his snapping to remarks. Instead, they found the teacher staring at the board, reading his own writing before casually flicking his wand towards it. Instead of adding billywings to the first mixture, the students were now supposed to add it to the second one.

Without another word, Snape went on with his lecture, letting the rest of the class sit in the shock that not only was Hermione correct about her criticism, but that Snape didn't berate her for the interruption.

Slowly, Ron leaned over to Harry. "You think Fred and George would have predicted this outcome when they put the chemistry rule on the list?"

Harry whispered, "Mate, I don't think they know what chemistry is."

* * *

_27\. If the thought of a spell makes me giggle for longer than 15 seconds, I am to assume that I am not allowed to do it._

Hermione sat down next to a hysterical Harry, Ron, and Ginny one Sunday morning for breakfast. Raising her eyebrow at the three of them, she began buttering her toast, waiting for the explanation.

"Hermione," Ron whispered with excitement. "You should have seen it! It was brilliant!"

"I'm sure whatever  _it_  is, it wasn't that good, Ronald."

Ron frowned. "But it was! It was amazing, Ginny did an Engorgio charm this morning, and while I find it a little wonky that  _she_ was the one to perform this particular spell..."

"It worked perfectly," Harry butted in.

"I don't understand," Hermione began. But before she could get another word out, a red-faced Draco Malfoy strolled into the Great Hall with his friends. Hermione also couldn't help but notice that a certain part of his male anatomy seemed a little bigger than usual. "Ah," she said in understanding. "So that was what the minute-long giggle fit was about."

"I'm surprised you're so... cool with this little prank," Ginny said with a smirk. "I'd have thought you'd want to defend his honor... and his small-"

Ron covered his sister's mouth with his hand. "I don't want to hear it!"

Hermione shrugged. "Well, truth be told, it's highly more effective than muggle plastic surgery. I don't know why your kind hasn't started using it sooner." Ron and Harry stared at their friend in shock, while in the distance a blushing Malfoy took great pains to cover his new assets.

* * *

_28\. The fact that there are only three unforgivable curses does not mean that every other curse is "pretty much forgivable"._

One morning, as the Gryffindors and the Slytherins sat together in Umbridge's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the unthinkable happened: Ronald Weasley, slacker extraordinaire, raised his hand.

Umbridge approached him cautiously, a fake smile plastered on her face.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

"Professor, is it true that there are only three unforgivable curses?" Ron asked loudly.

"Mr. Weasley, if you had paid any attention in class last year," Umbridge answered tersely, "then you would know that statement to be true."

"Right, right," Ron said, waving the answer away. "So that means any other curse is pretty much forgivable?"

Umbridge blinked. "Well... I wouldn't be so quick to claim that-"

"But if I were to use a cutting spell to slice off your arm, I wouldn't get a life sentence in Azkaban like I would have if I had used the Cruciatus curse?" Ron smiled innocently, aware that everyone in the class was watching him.

A pregnant pause filled the room as Umbridge got her wits back together. Finally, she smiled that witchy smile of hers. "In theory, no," Umbridge answered. "But seeing as you are contemplating these things... perhaps a detention with me shall straighten you out, yes?"

Ron was the only person  _not_ smiling after learning this interesting tidbit about the Ministry.

* * *

_29\. I will not swap Draco's broom with one from Filch's broom cupboard._

The first Slytherin match of the year was finally there, and students from all years and houses had trekked down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the serpents battle with the Hufflepuffs for victory.

No one was more interested in the outcome of the match than Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived wanted the Hufflepuffs to win desperately; he was aching for the Slytherins to fail. All he could hope was that Malfoy would be off his game...

The whistle blew, the players shot off into the air... and Malfoy stayed behind. Harry frowned, surprised. "What do you think he's doing?" he muttered to Ron. "Is this some new strategy, or..."

"No idea, mate," Ron said with a shrug. "But if it is, it sure is a strange - oh. Hang on. He's throwing some kind of a fit... I don't think it's a strategy after all..."

"You're correct in that assumption, brother," Fred said, sitting beside him.

"In fact," George continued, mirth in his eyes. "I'd venture so far as to say that he wasn't expecting this at all."

"Neither was Filch, of course," Fred added.

"He certainly is going to have a shock when he tries to sweep the entranceway tomorrow morning," George snickered. "Five sickles says the broom will just jump out of his hands!"

" _You_  did this?" Harry asked. "That  _really_  shouldn't surprise me."

"It was easy."

"It was fun."

"It'll cost you a detention," a voice from behind them said.

Wincing, Fred and George turned in tandem to face McGonagall. "But, Professor-" Fred began.

"No," she said sternly. "In my office.  _Now!_ And you'd better pray that I don't get Professor Snape involved!"

With their heads bowed, Fred and George followed after their Head of House. On the field below them, Malfoy stomped his foot in anger.

* * *

_30\. I will not create a pin-up calendar of the Slytherin girls._

Fred and George quickly thrust their calendar out of sight as Flitwick entered the classroom, but just like their younger brother, they weren't quick enough. Speed was really something the Weasleys needed to work on.

"Well boys," Flitwick said warily. "What do we have here?" He held out his hand expectantly.

Looking down in shame, Fred handed over his prized possession.

"Hmm..." Flitwick said, quickly flipping through the calendar before handing it back to its rightful owner. "Well. I think it's good that you boys are interested in Muggle affairs, even if Muggle calendars are so dreadfully boring..." He walked away, muttering to himself as he went.

Fred and George exchanged triumphant glances as George transfigured the muggle pictures back into the Slytherin pin-up girl calendar it actually was. They had made it themselves and were planning on selling it in the near future.

They were calling it Voldie's Angels.


	5. Numbers 31–40

_31\. I'm not allowed to use a fortune teller to make predictions in Divination._

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "Here she comes!"

"Do you have it?" Ron whispered urgently.

Harry nodded, his hands poised at the ready under the table as Trelawney stepped up to their table, her eyes glazed from the constant smell of incense and thick clouds of smoke that permeated the room. "Ah, and what have we here? How is the magic of the crystal ball speaking to you?"

"Name a color," Harry said, staring deeply into the ball in mock concentration.

Trelawney stepped back, surprise written all over her face. "Excuse me, dear. What?"

"The crystal ball has deemed it necessary for me to ask you to pick a color," Harry said seriously as Ron attempted to keep a straight face.

"Blue," Trelawney said, skepticism coloring her voice as she spoke.

Harry quickly and quietly moved the fortune teller under the table, all the while keeping eye-contact with the crystal ball. "Now you must pick a number. Either," he glanced down. "One, three, five, or seven."

"What is the meaning of this-"

"Professor," Ron spoke up suddenly, attempting to look serious. "You're clouding his inner eye! Just do what he asks!"

With a huff, Trelawney answered. "Seven," she said quickly. "Because it has great mystical powers, and-"

"Yeah, great," Harry interrupted. "Now pick another number. Two, four, six, or eight?"

"I don't understand the point of... What's this?" Trelawney said, snatching the fortune teller from Harry's lap. "What on earth..."

"Uh," Harry stuttered. "That's my... homework?"

"I didn't assign this, Mr. Potter! Now, you make your prediction, or I'll be forced to give you a detention!"

Squinting a little so he could read his own handwriting on the fortune teller from a distance, Harry answered Trelawney's plea. "'You're in for a rude awakening.'" Paling slightly, Harry looked up at his livid teacher's face. "Uh, sorry Professor..."

It was then that Ron collapsed from laughter, having not been able to hold it in anymore. Sadly, he ended up with a week's worth of detention as well.

* * *

_32\. Saying the Dark Mark should be the Slytherin crest is wrong._

"Get your scarves! Come one. Come all! Get your school scarves here! We have them in red, in gold-"

"In red and gold stripped," George continued for his brother. "In gold with red polka dots-"

"And in red with  _gold_  polka dots for the Gryffindors!"

"And we have the same options for all of the houses!"

"Yellow and black for Hufflepuffs!"

"Blue and bronze for Ravenclaws," George called out.

"And silver and green for Slytherins! Show your house pride! Buy a homemade scarf today!" Fred shouted, throwing his hands up.

"You know," a voice from behind them said. They turned as one, their eyes coming to rest upon McGonagall. She spoke as she shook her head. "This may very well be the first of your ridiculous plans that I actually support."

"Why thank you, Professor," Fred said with a raised eyebrow.

"It's nice to know that we have your support," George said. "It's also nice to know that you won't shut us down."

"There's nothing wrong with a little school spirit," McGonagall admitted. "But that is the  _only_  thing that I advocate. And you'd do well to keep that in mind!"

"Yes Professor!" They turned away from her as she began to walk off down the corridor, and they continued their sales pitch. "For a limited time only, we even have scarves with the house emblems on them!"

"Wear the Gryffindor lion with pride," George said as McGonagall rounded the corner.

"The Hufflepuff badger with honor."

"The Ravenclaw raven with integrity."

The boys exchanged glances, and then spoke together. "And wear the Slytherin Dark Mark with discrimination!"

* * *

_33\. I will not use the Marauders' Map for stalking purposes._

"Sh! What are you  _doing_? We don't want to get caught!"

"Well then maybe you shouldn't walk so close to the wall," Ron hissed back to his best mate.

"Maybe you should watch where you're going," Harry whispered back.

"Well maybe you-"

"Wait," Harry interrupted suddenly. "Here he comes!" Throwing the invisibility cloak off of themselves in one fluid motion, Harry and Ron posed against the wall, twin glares on their faces, as they watched the boy they were waiting for round the corner. "Evening, Malfoy."

Draco stopped suddenly, surprised to find the two of them staring at him. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing," Ron said, sneering as he took a step forward.

"This is the third time I've seen you two pop up tonight." Draco shook his head. "Are you following me?"

"Maybe," Harry said coyly. "But you'll never know now, will you?"

Malfoy shook his head and walked off, a scowl sliding onto his face as he went. As soon as the blond boy was out of sight, Harry pulled the Marauders' Map from his pocket. "Right," he said quickly. "It looks like he's heading down to the kitchens. Come on, there's a secret passage over here!"

* * *

_34\. I will not tell first years that Moon Prism Power is a basic Transfiguration spell._

Hermione watched on one evening at dinner in satisfaction as Professor McGonagall yelled at Pansy Parkinson. She claimed that Pansy had been telling the Hufflepuff first years some ridiculous nonsense about the moon, and that she could teach them a secret spell. Parkinson, predictably, denied all knowledge of said events. Unfortunately for her, McGonagall chose not to believe the Slytherin prefect and instead punished the girl with a week's detention.

Even though  _Hermione_  had been the one to perpetrate the lie, the Gryffindor girl still couldn't help but frown at the idiot first years that believed the  _ludicrous_  rumor and practiced "Moon Prism Power!" in the common room all night long.

* * *

_35\. I'm not allowed to tell Umbridge she takes herself too seriously._

"This newest decree  _must_  be followed by each and every one of you or else extreme measures will be taken to...  _coax_  out your compliance," Umbridge demanded over breakfast one day. "And trust me when I say that these measures are  _not_  pleasant. Do I make myself clear?" Silence. Umbridge sighed though, as she spotted a problem. "Yes, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny stood so everybody could see her. "Professor, with all due respect, you take yourself  _way_  too seriously. Maybe you should just relax and sit down. Drink your coffee. Then you won't be so uptight, yeah?" Ginny, by far the bravest of the six students who had undertaken Fred and George's special list, also became the first to receive punishment under Umbridge's newest decree.

* * *

_36\. I am not to start a "Who can blow up their cauldron first" contest in Potions class._

"Instructions are on the board," Snape drawled. "You may begin."

The professor sat back in his chair, noticing the glances that Weasley exchanged with Potter but choosing to think nothing of them as he listened to the wonderful sound of the simmering cauldrons...

That was when the first one blew up. Granger's cauldron exploded with a  _bang,_ the contents of the potion flying all over the room. For a second, all Snape could do was sit in surprise. Granger's cauldron blew up? Granger's?  _Granger's?_ What was going on?

And then the rest of them started to go.

Like popcorn, cauldron after cauldron exploded. Patil's, Potter's, Malfoy's, Weasley's, Parkinson's... As Ron handed Hermione the prize money, Snape jumped into action, giving detentions to anyone whose cauldron dared to explode.

Ironically, pyromaniac Seamus Finnigan's cauldron stayed intact, despite his supposed participation in the contest.

* * *

_37\. I will not owl Voldemort a bottle of anti-depressants._

Peter Pettigrew was trembling; he always hated it when he had to approach his master privately. He was afraid of him, deeply afraid that with no witnesses around, the Dark Lord would do something unspeakable to him out of boredom...

But he had no choice. A package for the Dark Lord had arrived via owl, and if he didn't give it to him, Pettigrew would surely be punished. "My Lord?" he whispered, bowing his head to his chest. "My Lord, this just came for you-" He stopped speaking as Voldemort ripped the parcel from his hands and began to tear the paper open. "My - my Lord, wait! I haven't checked the package for enchantments yet-"

"Silence!" Voldemort hissed, a withering glare falling across his face. "Do not dare to presume that my powers are so weak that I cannot  _sense_  any enchantments that may be upon this. Just from touch I can tell that no magic has touched this parcel! No magic at..."

His eyes narrowed as he slowly untied the string and dumped the contents of the present onto a table. His eyes widened in horror. " _Muggle_ antidepressants? How dare they... Come, Wormtail! We must find whoever sent me this  _gift_  and destroy them! We shall make an example of them. No one will  _ever_  send me Muggle things again! We will find this-" he glanced down at the card attached. "WWW, and make them pay!"

* * *

_38\. I will not put a *Kick Me* sign on Draco's back._

Draco didn't understand why everyone in the school was kicking him. The Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaws... even the Slytherins saw the need to kick him. Everyone from first years with their tiny feet to the seventh years (who really hurt, by the way) were taking a swing at him.

What was going on?

It was only at dinner when Snape walked by and informed Draco of the sign on his back that Draco realized what was going on. The magical people of Hogwarts had no idea that the sign was placed on his back by someone else, thinking instead that Draco wanted to be kicked as punishment for being such an arse all of the time.

In the distance, Fred and George exchanged high-fives.

* * *

_39\. I will not tell Snape to "suck it."_

"Ah, Miss Weasley," Snape said, shaking his head as a malicious smile formed on his face. The class waited for his punishment with bated breath. "This is wrong, oh so wrong. You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" A dramatic pause, and then - "Ten house points from Gryffindor."

Ginny's classmates looked away from her, presumably to let her hang her head in shame, but all Ginny Weasley did was roll her eyes. "Ah, why don't you just suck it."

It took Snape a moment to realize what that meant, but once he figured it out, the entire class could tell, thanks to the color that formed on his cheeks. It appeared that the pale teacher had a very bad sunburn on his face. Of course, his newfound red appearance did  _not_  deter him from deducting even  _more_  house points for Ginny's cheek.

* * *

_40\. "I've heard every possible joke about Oliver Wood's name" is not a challenge._

"I've already heard that one," Wood said, placing his head between his hands. What a long night. Here he was, going out of his way to meet with the Weasley brothers for a drink in the Hogshead, and all they wanted to do was make poor jokes about his name...

"What about the one with the broomstick-"

"Many times," Wood interrupted.

"Oh! The one about getting wooden-"

"Heard that!"

"Well how about how you'll make some girl  _very_ happy, because you have twice as much wood to go around?"

A pause, and then, "Actually, I've never heard that one before." Oliver scowled as the twins whooped in celebration.


	6. Numbers 41–50

_41\. Puking Pastils are not to be tested in the entranceway._

The door flew open with a  _bang_  as Argus Filch stormed into Professor Dumbledore's office, a scowl of anger and distaste visible on his face. He glared down at the headmaster as a snarl ripped from his chest. Slamming his hands down on the desk, Filch growled, "Headmaster! This is unacceptable!"

Dumbledore, however, merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned. "I'm sorry, Argus, but I'm afraid that I'm not a master Legimens. You'll have to explain what you find unacceptable."

He tossed his hands into the air. "The vomiting!" he spat. "The constant, unrelenting  _vomiting_!"

Dumbledore raised an eye. "Unrelenting? Oh, my. That is a problem."

"Since ten o'clock this morning, students have been vomiting in the entranceway! Ten o'clock! That's  _five_  hours!"

"Five straight hours of vomiting. My, it appears that we have an epidemic on our hands." He rose and moved towards the fireplace. "I'll go call Poppy-"

"No," Filch said with a violent shake of his head. "No."

"No?" the bearded man tilted his head to the side. "You don't wish me to fetch Poppy? Argus, if the children are sick-"

"They aren't," he said flatly. "Someone's doing this! I know because I've timed it! Every hour on the hour, two students will vomit, without fail!"

Dumbledore frowned. "That's hardly unrelenting, then."

"Headmaster!"

He smiled at his caretaker, though, and just walked back over to his desk. "I think I may have an idea, Argus. Please, go and fetch the Weasley twins at once, if you will."

 

* * *

_42\. I do not have a Dalek Patronus_

"Harry," Cho Chang called out at the next DA meeting.

Harry turned to the Asian girl, a slight blush on his face. He was about to start the lesson. Normally, he didn't like to be interrupted when he was entering "teacher mode" - he had enough trouble taking charge of his friends without the added interruptions - but he could always make an exception for Cho Chang. "Yes?"

"Are you going to teach us how to create a Patronus?"

Harry gave a slight nod. "Eventually. Though not right away. You lot still need practice before you'll be able to produce a fully formed Patronus."

" _I_  can already produce a Patronus," Fred called out, his voice smug.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You can?"

"You  _can_?" George echoed, surprised.

"Yes. It's quite strong too," the twin boasted.

"All right, then," Harry said with a laugh. "If your Patronus is so strong, why don't you show us, then?"

But Fred just shook his head. "I can't." Beside him, a look of comprehension came over George's face, and he started to laugh.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"Because my Patronus is a Dalek," Fred said simply. "And if I were to let it loose on the DA without an enemy about, it would exterminate you all!" As his classmates all stared at him in wonder, George broke down and began to laugh hysterically. 

* * *

_43\. "OMGWTF" is not a spell_

It was Ginny who told the first years that the phrase OMGWTF was a special spell used to attract attention. She said it fed off the student's excitement; therefore the best place to perform said spell would be in the Great Hall at breakfast. Preferably when the owls were arriving. It worked even better if the wand was pointed towards the teachers.

Ginny also stressed that such a spell required loud verbal cues - the witch or wizard in question needed to shout the spell at the top of their lungs in order for it to succeed.

When said first years actually  _tried_ the spell, however, they quickly realized that the only thing Ginny  _hadn't_  lied about was that the "spell" would get them attention. Because when two Gryffindor idiots yelled "OMGWTF" out at breakfast one morning, the entire school stared to laugh.

Well, except for Snape. He just gave them detentions.

* * *

_44\. I won't sit in detention with Snape and ask him questions about his childhood_

Hermione spent the detention Snape had given her for blowing up her cauldron lounging in her chair, a quill in hand. While writing  _'I will not take part in any ridiculous bets and make a further fool of myself'_ a hundred times certainly  _seemed_ like an easy detention, in all actuality, it had become quite boring after awhile. And so, as was characteristic of Hermione Granger, she raised her hand.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Miss Granger, even  _you_  could not possibly have a question about this assignment."

"I was just wondering, Professor," Hermione said seriously. Her dominant hand continued to write as she spoke, copying down the tedious line. "Where did you grow up?"

The professor seemed taken aback, his eyes widening in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Where did you grow up?" Hermione repeated. "In London? Or the country? I bet you took many wonderful trips around England as a child." She smiled up at him as she continued to write.

"Miss Granger, that is not your-"

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said with an apologetic shrug. "I know it's rather... forward of me to ask-"

"Quite!"

"But I've always found that by learning about potions' masters, one can better understand the methods and principles behind which their potions were created. That's why I'm asking where you grew up, you see. But if you feel you can't tell me, I understand, sir."

Snape paused, and then, to the other students' surprise, Snape began to recount his history to the Gryffindor girl, stopping every now and then so Hermione could ask a question about his childhood.

* * *

_45\. I'm not allowed to start the beat-boxing club._

Umbridge stared at the ten students before her in concern. They were trying to pitch her a club idea, and she wasn't entirely sure she understood its purpose. "Beat-boxing? What... what is that? What do you mean?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You don't know what beat-boxing is?"

Umbridge scowled. "Well, I didn't grow up in the _M_ _uggle_  world, Miss Granger."

"Ah, Professor," Ron said, shaking his head. "How have you gone so long without learning your boots and cats?"

Umbridge started. "My  _what_?" She felt the beginnings of a headache approaching. Oh, how she regretted putting herself in charge of the school's clubs...

"They're sounds," Dean Thomas said excitedly. "Sounds that you make when you're beat-boxing."

"I'm sorry,  _what_?"

Hermione sighed. "Ron, I think she needs a demonstration."

"Right then," Ron said, turning to the twins, Seamus, Neville, and Lavender. "On three. One, two, three!"

As one, the five of them began... " _Bp te cah te, bp bp cah te, bp te cah te, bp te te puh."_

"So," Ron said excitedly. "What did you think?"

Umbridge was so shocked by the blatant stupidity of this  _hobby_  that it took her a moment to find her voice and tell them no.

* * *

_46\. I'm not on Survivor ,and I'm not allowed to vote people out of the common room._

"Missy, the tribe has spoken," Ginny said ominously.

"But... where am I to go?" the young second year blonde asked, worried.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, our version of Ponderosa is being renovated right now - some fourth year Hufflepuff accidentally lit it on fire last week - so... you're on your own. Good luck!"

"But-"

"Missy, you've just been voted out of the common room," Ginny snapped. "Leave!"

The poor girl was tearing up as she was on her way to the portrait hole when it suddenly opened, revealing a stern-faced McGonagall. "What, in the name of Merlin, is going on here?" Missy threw herself at the Professor's feet, sobbing, as two other students entered behind McGonagall.

"Uh," Ginny said, turning quickly to her brother. "Fred. Do you want to go find that third year we sent to exile island?"

Fred shook his head and whispered back to his sister. "Naw. He was annoying, let him stay there." That was all they could get out before McGonagall descended upon them in fury.

* * *

_47\. If Draco, Harry, or any other seeker gets on my nerves, I am not allowed to shout "Fetch!" and throw a little golden ball at them._

Harry and Malfoy were fighting. Again.

The two of them fight so often that it's really no surprise when they go at it anymore. Most of the time, the Hogwarts students just let the two of them fight, but Hermione couldn't take it. They were in the library, for Merlin's sake! And she was trying to study! It was intolerable, absolutely intolerable. Especially since they weren't just fighting, oh no.

They were exchanging 'Yo mama' insults. Or in this case, 'Your mum' insults.

"Your mum is so blonde, she probably thinks the radio is filled with tiny people," Harry sneered.

"Yeah? Well your mum is so dead, she never moves!"

"That was crap, Malfoy!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

Hermione slammed her book down, incapable of ignoring their stupidity any longer. She pulled from her pocket a little bouncy ball she had painted gold, and threw it between the two of them. "Fetch," she called out.

The two boys paused, looks of awe and annoyance on their faces. "What the hell, Granger?" Malfoy snapped.

"Yeah, Hermione," Harry said with a shake of his head. "That was a little... over the top."

"Fine then," she said, gathering up her books. "Fine. Then why don't you just take your own advice Harry. Why don't you two get a room!"

And with that, she hurried from the library, leaving Malfoy and Harry both looking incredibly scandalized.

* * *

_48\. I will not organize a Hogwarts Fight Club._

Umbridge was excited - she'd just found out about an illegal club containing Potter, Weasley, and Granger. She was sure this was the secret defense club her spies in the Hog's Head had told her about. She burst into the unused classroom on the third floor, her wand drawn, her mouth open in glee... to find Potter, Weasley, Granger, and a few other upper year students sitting in a circle, studying.

"W-what?" she stammered as she lowered her wand. "What is going on here?"

"Oh, hello Professor," Hermione said with a sweet smile. "And how are you today?"

"Granger... What is the meaning of this?"

"This is a study group," she said gesturing to the other students in the room. Parvati and Padma both waved awkwardly. "Why? What does it  _look_  like this is?"

"All clubs," Umbridge started to say, "are expressly forbidden unless approved by me-"

"This isn't a club, Professor," Ron jumped in. "It's a study  _group_. You know, just a noncommittal, non- _cluby_  group."

"But-"

"Please, Professor," Hermione said, patting the ground beside her. "If you would like to participate in the studying, feel free. Though you'll probably be terribly bored. Our Charms homework questions will be like  _child's_  play to you, after all."

Umbridge's eyes shifted from face to face, searching desperately for some sort of hint that one of them was lying... but she found nothing. With a huff, she turned decisively on her heel and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Harry glanced down at the open book in his lap as the other student's held their breaths, waiting for the all-clear signal. "All right," he said at last, holding up the Marauder's Map that he'd tucked into the pages of the book. "She's gone."

"We appreciate everyone staying silent," Hermione said with a grin as the students all stood up. "Though I confess that staying silent is what we expected you to do. After all, the first rule of Fight Club is that we do  _not_  talk about Fight Club!"

"Now then," Harry said, clapping his hands together. "Lavender? Ginny? You're up."

* * *

_49\. I will not borrow Trelawney's tarot cards for a game of poker._

"I'll raise you two Knuts and one Sickle," Fred said, turning to Harry.

The famous teenager scowled before sighing. "All right," he finally caved. "I'll fold."

"Ah-ha!" Fred screamed in triumph. "I win! And look at what I had to," he showed his cards, including both Death and The Tower.

Hermione groaned. "Why did I fold again?"

Suddenly, screaming came from the entrance to the castle. "I wonder what that was," Harry said, tensing up. He pulled out his wand. "Do you suppose we ought to go check?" That was when Trelawney ran out in a fit of panic.

"Oh, it's just the old loon looking for her tarot cards," Fred said with a shrug. "Now," he grinned. "Who's ready to go again?"

* * *

_50\. I am not to say that any of my witch relatives were crushed by a house_

"It's okay. It's all right, George. We'll get through this."

"No we won't," George wailed, bringing his hands up to cover his face. "Our lives are over!"

"What is going on now," McGonagall said sternly, coming up behind the twins as George continued to sob in the Great Hall.

"Our aunt," Fred said calmly. "There was a... minor mishap."

"Minor!" George exclaimed. "How can you say that? She's dead!"

McGonagall gasped in surprise. "What? But... but how?"

"It's rather complicated-"

"I'll tell you how," George said, grabbing the front of his professor's robes. "The house fell on her! She was crushed by a house!"

McGonagall blinked in surprise. "I... what?"

"It's true," Fred said solemnly. "A house fell on her... Right before some stupid girl stole her shoes."

* * *


	7. Numbers 51–60

_51\. I will not post notices in common rooms saying that tomorrow is a theme day._

"A  _theme_  day? What is that?"

"I don't know," a small Gryffindor girl said in response to her friend. "But it says to wear a costume."

"This is ridiculous," one of the older students said with a scoff. "Hogwarts has never had a theme day before. I bet you it's just one of the Slytherins trying to make Gryffindors look like fools."

"Not true," George said, joining the circle around the noticeboard in the common room. "I heard that these things are up in all of the other common rooms as well."

"Yeah," Fred chimed in, a glimmer of laughter present. "I think the entire school is supposed to participate in theme day."

"Well tomorrow  _is_  Halloween," a Muggleborn first year boy said with a shrug. "It's the day Muggles wear costumes."

"Exactly," George coaxed. "And you know Dumbledore, always trying to create new traditions. I think he really  _does_  want us to dress up tomorrow."

"But as  _what_?" the older girl protested.

George shrugged. "That's up to you. But..." he exchanged glances with his twin. "I think we're going to go as zombies."

* * *

_52\. I am not allowed to post flyers around Hogwarts saying that classes have been cancelled on Halloween._

Umbridge didn't hesitate in giving out a massive group detention to the entire first year class of Hogwarts for ditching all of their lessons on Halloween. Though they all protested that giving out detentions to an entire  _year_  was a bit unfair, she had no trouble reminding them that the rules are there to be followed, not ignored.

Even once she'd found an official looking WWW flyer that said  _Classes are cancelled for Halloween! Prepare for some good old-fashioned Halloween fun!_  in all of the common rooms, Umbridge still felt the massive punishment was necessary to insure that this kind of blatant stupidity didn't happen again.

Unfortunately for Umbridge, none of the first years seemed to know who had posted the flyers, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out who was behind the little prank...

* * *

 _53\. I'm not allowed to reenact a scene from_ Macbeth  _in the Great Hall_ _._

During the lunch hour on Halloween, everyone was scared witless when all of a sudden, Harry Potter screamed. He stood, an accusatory finger pointed towards Ginny, Hermione, and Lavender. The three girls stood across from him, wicked grins on their faces. "I will be satisfied!" Harry said, his eyes wide. "Deny me this, and an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know. Why sinks the cauldron? And what noise is this?"

All eyes in the hall turned to the three witches who stood opposite of Harry as sly grins crossed their faces and they began to chant. "Show, show, show," they whispered, their voices eerily carrying across the entire hall. "Show his eyes and grieve his heart. Come like shadows; so depart!"

A gasp escaped from Harry's lips as his eyes locked on something directly behind the three girls... something that wasn't there. "Horrible sight! Now I see 'tis true, for the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me and points at them for his. What, is this so?"

Once more, the girls all spoke as one. "I'll charm the air to give a sound, while you perform your antic round."

Harry turned his back on them, sweeping his arm out across the Great Hall. "From this moment the very firstlings of my heart shall be the firstlings of my hand," he said solemnly. Silence surrounded him. And then, Fred, George, Ron, and the rest of the DA stood and started to applaud.

"Encore, encore!" Fred exclaimed as the four students took a bow.

"Good show!"

"Bravo!"

The rest of the students began to slowly clap and cheer as Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Lavender bowed once more before turning to bow to the stunned teachers sitting at the high table. Dumbledore had a characteristic twinkle in his eye as he let out a small whistle to the children.

Over at the Hufflepuff table, a small first year girl turned to her friend. "I used to hate Halloween," she confided to the girl beside her, who was dressed as a gypsy. "But Halloween at Hogwarts is actually really fun!" She adjusted the cat's ears on her head, and continued to cheer.

* * *

_54\. I am not allowed to sing "Thriller" on Halloween._

It happened during the traditional Halloween dinner feast, right after the Gryffindor ode to  _Macbeth_. Dumbledore sat in his usual seat, his eyes twinkling, as many of the students gorged themselves on candy corn and bat-shaped cookies. However, he frowned when he noticed that at large chunk of the younger years appeared to be missing...

Suddenly, music sounded, flooding through the Great Hall. The eery, haunting sounds soon gave way to a pop-beat, and all of the first years and most of the DA entered the Great Hall dressed as zombies. Harry and Hermione led the way, and before long, the group had begun to dance as Dean Thomas belted out the tune.

" _For this is thriller! Thriller night."_

Apparently, the two Gryffindors had spent the entire day in the Room of Requirement teaching Gryffindors and Slytherin alike the Thriller dance ("This is why they weren't in class," Umbridge muttered under her breath). They had told the younger years that it was a Hogwarts tradition for all first years to dance the "Thriller" dance on Halloween. While that in and of itself was false, everyone could tell by the look on Dumbledore's face that he was seriously considering  _making_  it a Hogwarts tradition...

And that was how "Thriller" entered the wizarding world.

* * *

_55\. It probably isn't smart to insinuate that Draco Malfoy's hair glows in the dark._

"Hey Weaslette," Malfoy said with a smirk as he passed the younger girl in the corridor.

"Malfoy," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"What, that's the only greeting I get?" he said. "After I did you a kindness by recommending a place for you to get your hair done?" He glanced at the girl's red tresses and sneered. "Not that you've actually  _been_ , I see. You really  _do_  need to get your roots fixed, Weaslette. Or can you and your failure family not afford it?"

Ginny just rolled her eyes, though, and pushed past him. "At least my hair doesn't glow in the dark," she said smugly, leaving the Slytherin standing with his lips parted in surprise.

* * *

_56\. I will not teach the first years how to play "The Penis Game."_

Umbridge sat in silence during dinner, just as she always did. She got the impression that none of the other teachers at Hogwarts liked her very much. That was fine with her, for she didn't necessarily like them either. Still, it would be nice to occasionally partake in a conversation or two...

Suddenly, she heard a muffled sound come from the Gryffindor table, almost like a student meant to shout, but chickened out at the last second. She heard the Weasley girl say "Louder!" to the first years she was with, but thought nothing of it and instead went back to consuming her soup.

"Penis!" Someone in Gryffindor suddenly said. Silence filled the Great Hall as everyone sat there, not knowing what else to do. Umbridge's eyes widened as she scanned the hall for the culprit.

And then Ginny chimed in. "Penis!" she yelled louder then the first year.

"Penis!" someone from Hufflepuff screamed. Umbridge didn't know what to do - this was way too awkward a situation for her to handle alone, and none of the other teachers were making a move to help.

"Penis!"

"Penis!"

"PENIS!"

Umbridge, it appeared, would have to get used to this inappropriate game, for this was the first of 742 times The Penis Game would be played at Hogwarts. That year.

* * *

_57\. I will not hand out slips of papers asking students to answer the following question: Do you think Snape is evil?_

"Come on, Neville! It's an anonymous survey - you have to answer it," Ron pleaded. "We value your opinion."

But Neville shook his head. "I just know Snape will find out what I think about him... I can't do it!"

"That may have been the first smart thing you've done in your life, Mr. Longbottom," a voice behind them mused. Spinning around, Neville and Ron both grew pale at the sight of Severus Snape. "Mr. Weasley," he said, holding out his hand. "The parchment, please."

Reluctantly, Ron gave the slip of paper over to his professor. Snape stared down at it, trying to comprehend the sentiment behind the survey. Finally, he turned and began walking away. "That's  _Professor_ Snape, Mr. Weasley." Ron let out a sigh of relief... but a little too soon. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for inquiring if I'm evil," Snape called over his shoulder.

Ron frowned. "Aw, suck it," he whispered to Neville before walking away.

* * *

_58\. Modifying the old "pail of water over the door" trick is frowned upon._

"Here she comes," Fred whispered, scurrying back to his brother's side as they waited behind the lounge chair in Umbridge's office, wearing Harry's invisibility cloak. "Quiet!" They sat in silence, eyes on the door in front of them and the pail balanced precariously atop...

The door opened quickly, and just like that, a pail filled with bubotuber pus fell... onto Cho Chang. She screamed as Umbridge entered her office behind the student, a look of surprise coloring her face. That could have been her - that _should_ have been her.

"What on earth..." she said quietly to herself as Cho started to cry.

Fred and George winced and exchanged nervous glances. If only Umbridge had been the one to turn that door knob...

* * *

_59\. If a classmate falls asleep, I will not take advantage and draw a Dark Mark on their arm._

Harry sat bored to tears beside a sleeping Seamus in Umbridge's class one day in early December. Christmas fever was on its way, and he personally couldn't be bothered reading about defensive spells when he could be fantasizing about Christmas at Grimmauld Place.

Inspiration hit Harry suddenly as he remembered an item on Fred and George's list. Taking out his quill and ink, he pulled the sleeve of Seamus' shirt up and began to draw...

Over the summer, Harry vowed to take up sketching as a hobby, because his artwork was so realistic that Seamus spent an hour being interrogated by Umbridge under Veritisum after the old toad saw the 'Dark Mark' on his arm.

* * *

_60\. I will not sing, "We're Off to See the Wizard" when sent to the Headmaster's Office._

"Come on, Ron! We're going to be late!" Hermione called through the mass of students.

"Hermione, it's a prefects meeting at Dumbledore's office, it's not a race for football tickets at Britannia Stadium."

Hermione stopped to wait for Ron and raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know what that is?"

Ron shrugged. "Not really, but Seamus mentioned it-"

"Enough," Hermione said, holding up a hand. "We have to get going. Are you ready?"

Ron nodded as he finally reached her, nearly tripping a Hufflepuff as he did so. "Ready."

"Brilliant," Hermione said. And with that, they linked arms and started to skip, paying no mind to those around them who they were trampling.

That was when the singing started.

_"We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz! Because, because, because, because, becauuuuuuuse... Because of the wonderful things he does!"_


	8. Numbers 61–70

_61\. I am not allowed to spread rumors that Umbridge's animagus transformation went horribly wrong._

Professor Umbridge, once again, was struck with the undeniable notion that she  _hated_  children. The whispers, the stares, the laughter... all directed at her! And why?  _She_  certainly didn't know. It wasn't like those stupid brats would actually  _tell_ her anything. Unless...

With a gleam in her eye, she stormed down the third floor corridor and over to the Slytherin Prince himself, one Draco Malfoy. "What's going on?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"The students. They're gossiping. Why?"

He shrugged, a bit of tension appearing on his face. "Because they're students. They're young. It's what they do."

She smiled sweetly. "Now you  _know_  that's not true, Mr. Malfoy. Tell me what they're talking about. Unless, of course, you  _want_  to lose your position as a Hogwarts prefect?"

Malfoy sighed before slowly shaking his head. "Professor, I'm not sure you  _want_  to know-"

"Just tell me!"

"The students..." he hesitated before swallowing once and continuing on, "the students are talking about you."

"I know that!"

"They're saying that you're an animagus. A... a  _toad_ animagus, Professor. And that your transformation failed and that's... that's why you sort of... resemble a toad. So the students say!" Malfoy added, quickly holding up his hands in defense.

Oh, the _nerve_ of these children! " _Who started it?_ " she said through her teeth.

Malfoy winced. "Er... that's the thing. No one knows. The - the entire school is talking about it, so-"

"Argh!" Umbridge shrieked, as she turned on her heel and hurried off down the corridor, cursing the existence of hormonal children.

Meanwhile, from behind the corner, Ginny Weasley let out a small sigh of relief, happy that no one knew it was  _she_  who had started the rumors.

* * *

_62\. It is not acceptable to make parodies of a Professor's name._

"To Professor McGonagills!" Fred said, raising his bottle of butterbeer into the air.

"To McGonagills!" his fellow Gryffindors said, raising their own bottles up before lowering them to their lips and taking a sip. Term was ending in two weeks, and already the Gryffindors were ready to party like it was Christmas time.

And Fred and George, quite obviously, were the ones  _leading_  the party. "To Professor Snake!" George announced, raising his bottle up high.

"To Snake!"

"To Professor Dumbridge!" Ron said, jumping onto the table in the common room.

"To Dumbridge!"

"These really aren't clever, you know," Hermione muttered with a shake of her head.

Beside her, Harry let out a chuckle, tilting his butterbeer slightly towards her in acknowledgment. "They aren't. But let them have their fun. They might as well. I mean, what else are they going to do?  _Homework_?"

Hermione glared at him. "Take that back."

"Never."

"To the dead Professor Squirrel!"

"To the dead Squirrel!"

* * *

_63\. A ferret is not a proper Christmas gift for Draco Malfoy._

Ginny and her brothers watched the flock of owls above their heads expectantly as the mail came in, waiting for one specific owl to arrive. They didn't have to wait for long, as finally, a brown barn owl landed beside Draco Malfoy, carrying a large, oblong-shaped package...

Malfoy glanced at the top of the parcel, but found no note there. He shrugged, and opened it quickly, curious as to what might be inside and who was sending him something the week before Christmas. As he pulled the paper off of the parcel, he saw a note attached to the top of the box.

_Here's your twin!_

_-G. "Weaslette" Weasley_

It took him a second to process this, but as he opened the box, a feeling of dread filled his gut... And as his eyes beheld the snowy white ferret curled up into a ball in the box, he knew why. Malfoy's face grew red as his fellow Slytherins began laughing.

"What the bloody hell--" he snapped, a glare creeping onto his reddened face. At the next table over, the Gryffindors started to laugh at his reaction.

It wasn't until Ginny returned to her dormitory that she received an answering note from Malfoy.

 _Weaslette,_ it read.

_Despite the cruel intentions, this is probably the first well-thought out gift I've received in a while._

_-D. "Ferret-Boy" Malfoy_

_PS - I named him Frost._

_Well how about that_ , Ginny mused. The Slytherin prince had a heart after all.

* * *

_64\. Novelty or holiday themed ties are not to be worn with my school uniform._

Professor McGonagall sighed as she stared down at the terrible twosome sitting in her office. It appeared that she'd seen more of Fred and George Weasley than usual this year, thanks to Umbridge. "All right, you two," she said, raising an eyebrow. "What is it this time?"

"I don't know what you mean, Professor," George said with a look of utmost innocence.

"We weren't doing anything wrong," Fred continued. "Just minding our own business-"

"When  _Umbridge-_  er, Professor Umbridge," George corrected quickly. "Grabbed us both by the arms and told us we had detention."

"We were astonished."

"Shocked."

"Surprised."

"Hurt."

"Saddened."

"Angered."

"Mystifi-"

"I get it," McGonagall said, cutting them off. "But  _why_  did she give you detention."

"She said she didn't like our  _ties_ ," Fred said with a roll of his eyes. "Of all the ridiculous reasons... Just because she doesn't agree with our fashion senses, that doesn't give her the right to assign us  _detention_!"

But McGonagall didn't blink. "And just what ties were you two wearing?"

Fred and George sighed. They were hoping she wouldn't ask that... Slowly, the two boys opened their robes to show red and green stripped ties that were covered in flashing lights that spelt out "Merry Christmas!"

Their head of house blinked. "Well, that certainly  _would_  be distracting."

"Professor-"

"Don't," she said with a shake of her head. "Honestly, the number of daft things you have done this year..."

* * *

_65\. I will not ask Harry if his Scar Senses are tingling_

Ron woke  _way_  too early a few days before the holiday break was due to begin. One moment, he had been fast asleep and dreaming of kittens and Hermione Granger... and the next he had been painfully wrenched from the dream and tossed back into reality. And why did he wake up, you may ask? Because Harry freaking Potter was screaming. 

Ron rolled out of bed, kneeling by Harry and shaking his best friend awake. "Harry! Harry, mate. What's wrong?"

"No!" Harry yelled, before his eyes shot open. He sat up, his eyes wide with fear as he clutched his scar in pain. His jittery gaze swept the room, before finally coming to rest on his best friend. "Ron," he groaned. "Oh, Merlin, no!"

As scared and as worried about his best friend as Ron was, he couldn't pass up the chance to cross something else off of Fred and George's infamous list. "Harry, mate... are your Scar Senses tingling?"

Despite the pain in his forehead, Harry was still coherent enough to flip Ron the bird.

* * *

_66\. I'm not allowed to Ask Lupin if it's his 'Time of the Month'_

Things had finally settled down again after the Arthur Weasley at the Ministry fiasco. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children were all at Grimmauld Place with Lupin and Sirius. Ron's father was due home from St. Mungo's the next day, and Lupin was busy running around to make sure everything was perfect so that the injured man would be comfortable.

"What are you doing?" he snapped at Ron as the teenager stumbled out of his room and into the library around midday. "Your father just got  _attacked_. Why aren't you helping me get a room ready?"

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron behind Lupin's back. Ron shook his head. "Sorry. Couldn't sleep last night. But whatever you need-" He moved a pillow to the other side of the couch... and promptly got yelled at.

"No! That's  _not_  where that is supposed to go! Merlin, can you do  _anything_  right?"

Harry and Ron exchanged tight glances before Ron turned back to Lupin, a look of compassion on his face. "Lupin, mate... is it your time of the month?"

It's a good thing Hermione is handy with healing spells, otherwise Mrs. Weasley would have never forgiven Lupin for hitting Ron so hard...

* * *

_67\. I am not to get Sirius Black any dog toy for a present._

"Merry Christmas!" Fred and George exclaimed on that memorable morning.

"Happy Christmas," Sirius responded cheerfully.

"We got you something, Sirius," Fred said with excitement.

"Did you now?" Sirius said with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. We think you're really going to love it," George said, giving Sirius a tube wrapped in red paper.

"Well," Sirius said, taking it from them. "That's very thoughtful of you two..." he trailed off, pulling the object out of its wrappings. It was a bone. A dog bone.

Although he looked slightly crestfallen upon opening his gift, Fred and George caught him playing with it in his dog form two days later.

* * *

_68\. Do not jump out at Mad-Eye Moody as a joke._

Moody was walking down the hall of number twelve Grimmauld Place right before one of the Order of the Phoenix meetings. He wasn't sure  _why_  Dumbledore had insisted on postponing the meeting until after Christmas - Arthur Weasley had been  _attacked!_ They shouldn't have waited to meet! His peg-leg clunked ominously on the floor as he limped onwards down the corridor, looking back and forth in suspicion...

Something suddenly jumped out at him. "Boo!" it shouted.

"Stupify!" Moody growled, instinctively pointing his wand at his attacker. The boy fell to the ground, and Moody realized it was none other then Ron Weasley. "Brilliant," Moody said gruffly as he stepped over the boy's body.

Molly was going to kill him.

* * *

_69\. I will not ask Sirius if he was neutered._

"Where do you think you're going?" a deep voice from behind Fred asked.

He jumped, turning around to see Sirius standing behind him. "No where," Fred said quickly. He glanced towards the front door of Grimmauld Place and then back to the man before him. "No where."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "And yet somehow, I don't believe you."

"Well, I... don't-"

"More importantly, where's George?" Sirius asked. "You two aren't planning some kind of stunt, are you-"

"No!" Fred said quickly. He sighed. So much for subtlety. "George doesn't... know that I'm leaving. And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell him."

"Really, now?" Sirius said, a sly smirk slipping onto his face. "And why, pray tell, should I keep your excursion a secret?"

"Because I..."

"It doesn't matter," Sirius said with a shake of his head. "You can't go, anyway. So you just might as well head back upstairs and-"

"What? But-"

"It's too dangerous!" Sirius pointed out. "And it's the middle of the bloody night! Go back to bed."

"But I'm..." he bit his lip, before cautiously divulging his secret. "I'm going to meet up with Katie Bell."

"Ah," Sirius said, understanding washing over him. "A girl. I should have guessed."

"So you can see why I have to go," Fred said, taking a step towards the door.

"I can. But you still can't go."

"What? Sirius-"

"It's much too dangerous," Sirius said, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. Fred scowled in response. "You could get hurt. Now I'm sure she'll understand that you couldn't make it, and she'll be happy to meet with you some other time. During the day. When it's safe."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Oh, that sounds lovely." He shook his head, giving the older man a quick glance. "It's like you have no feeling for poor, weak, untouched young men like myself. It's like you've been neutered." He paused, his eyes widening. "Have you?"

A growl escaped from Sirius' lips, and he hit the boy lightly on the back of the head. "Go to bed," he said gruffly. "Or I'll tell George and  _Molly_  what you were up to."

* * *

_70\. I'm not allowed to reply to everything that Professor Lupin says with, "Are you fucking Sirius?"_

"...you  _can't_  go outside, Sirius," Lupin said, as around him, people began to wake up, having slept through his entirely dull and lengthy speech about Sirius' safety. "Because you might get caught by the ministry. Or worse, Death Eaters."

Ginny rolled her eyes as she perked up. "That's why he can't go out? Professor, are you fucking Sirius?"

Even though Ginny's sentence made sense within the conversation, the double meaning wasn't lost on anyone, least of all Sirius who grumbled something about it being, "just one time" as Lupin turned red.


	9. Numbers 71–80

_71\. I am not to use the Floo System to play "Ultimate Tag."_

Over the Christmas holidays, Ginny escaped through the Floo to the fireplace in the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts. She was sure nobody in Slytherin had stayed at Hogwarts (pure-bloods like their children at home, after all), and that she'd be safe there for awhile. Besides, Harry, or 'it', wouldn't think to look for her in the Slytherin dorms.

She looked around, setting her watch alarm for two minutes - that was as long as she was willing to risk being stuck in one spot. After she set her watch, she looked around. The Slytherin common room wasn't too different from the Gryffindor common room, truth be told. It was a little darker, and there was way too much green for Ginny's taste, but the same plush armchairs encircled the fire, the same sturdy desks were posted in a corner. She could almost understand how the Slytherins called the place home.

"What are you doing?" a voice from behind her inquired.

Spinning around, Ginny looked deep into Draco Malfoy's gray eyes. "Malfoy?" she asked. "Why aren't you home for the holidays?"

"You did get my note, didn't you?" Malfoy smiled ruefully, referencing the note he'd sent her in regards to her snarky present. "That should be explanation enough."

 _Weaslette,_ the note had read.  _Despite the cruel intentions, this is probably the first well-thought out gift I've received in a while._ Ginny swallowed and took a step towards him. "Malfoy, I'm-" but she was cut off as the alarm on her watch beeped. "Damn," she cursed. Turning back to the blond, she said, "I've got to go." She spun around and grabbed some of the Floo powder from beside the fireplace. Draco grabbed her arm.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked.

She smiled, throwing the powder into the fireplace. "We're playing a game of Ultimate Tag." The fire blared green. She stepped into the flames and vanished.

* * *

_72\. I may not refer to Sirius Black as 'Seriously Black'._

Harry, George, and Ginny were sitting in the kitchen a week before they needed to return to Hogwarts, discussing the finer points of Quidditch as a sport when Sirius entered the room. To George, the older man looked rather depressed; the school break was almost over, and soon, everyone would leave. Sirius Black would be alone again.

George smiled at Harry's guardian, a look of compassion upon his face. George liked Sirius a lot, and he hated seeing him sad. So he tried to cheer him up. "Hey Seriously Black. How are you?"

George's plan backfired; Sirius wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the day.

* * *

_73\. Synchronized panicking is not a proper battle plan._

School was due to start the next day, and everyone was feeling morbid about this, especially Harry. The teenager could not for the life of him understand why they couldn't be involved in the Order, considering what had happened to Mr. Weasley.

Finally, the boy snapped. "Sirius, why can't we know what the Order is doing?" he asked forcefully, causing everyone in the room to jump.

Moody answered before Sirius could. "Because you don't know how to fight; you don't have any plans of attack."

"We do too!"

"Really?" Lupin said wearily. "Like what?"

"Like, uh..."

Ron jumped in to save his friend. "We have synchronized panicking. When we're in battle scenario and scared to death, we can all express our concerns together."

* * *

_74\. Robes are appropriate school wear. Bathrobes are not._

"What are you two wearing?" McGonagall asked, as her eyes widened. Fred and George Weasley sat down in Transfiguration on the first day back from break, innocent looks upon their faces. In retrospect, she shouldn't have been surprised - it  _was_ , after all, the Weasley twins. They were known for pulling ridiculous stunts.

"Our robes, Professor," George said, blinking innocently as he pulled the red terrycloth bathrobe tighter across his chest.

"Why? Is there a problem?" Fred said as he wiggled his toes in his gold slippers.

"School robes," McGonagall seethed. "You're supposed to wear school robes!"

"But we put the Hogwarts crest on them," Fred protested. "See?" Turning around, Fred and George showed the emblem for the four houses on the back of their matching bathrobes. 

* * *

_75\. I will not tell Professor Trelawney that I foresaw her death._

"Look  _into_  the crystal ball," Professor Trelawney breathed during on lesson. " _Feel_  the magic of the future.  _See_  the world that shall be. Look. Look."

"I'm looking," Ron muttered to Harry. "All I see is her bloody awful reflection!"

"Use your inner eye. See beyond life itself!" She swept her arms out in a grand gesture and then sighed. "Feel the Sight course through you, feel the future take hold of you, feel-"

Harry, by this point, had had  _enough_  'feeling.' He needed her to stop babbling about "the Sight" and other nonsense. So he threw himself backwards in his chair, a horrified gasp escaping his lips. "No!" he cried. "No!"

Trelawney rushed over, a look of intrigue on her face. "What is it, boy? What do you see?"

Harry turned towards her as a feigned sob wrenched through his body. "You! You... You're going to die."

A hush fell over the classroom as all of the students turned to watch their Professor. She paled, but took the news considerably well. Lifting her chin, she asked, "And how, exactly, shall I meet my fate?"

"Er-" he blinked; he hadn't been prepared for that. "A dog," he said, thinking quickly. "A dog will maul you to death."

Trelawney nodded solemnly before choking on a sob. "I knew it," she whispered. "I knew it. I have seen the Grim! And now, the Grim shall kill me."

* * *

_76\. I'm not allowed to yell BAMF every time I walk into a room._

Snape sighed. School was back in session for the rest of the year, and he was back to teaching dunderheads. Potions for fifth years was about to begin, and Snape was dreading class. The post-Christmas excitement always made children rowdy and extra insipid - class was going to be hell.

"BAMF!"

Snape jumped in surprise, nearly dropping the quill he held in one hand as he turned around. Ronald Weasley had just walked through the door to the dungeons, his head held high despite the fact that everybody was staring at him.

"Mr. Weasley," Snape drawled as he glared at the young Gryffindor. _Idiot,_ Snape thought. "Please refrain from shouting nonsense."

Ron pouted - yes  _pouted_ , Snape noticed with a sneer - at him. "But Professor, I have to yell BAMF when I walk into the room."

Snape's lip curled. "I'm going to regret asking this, but why, pray tell, is that?"

Ron grinned at the potions master. "Because I'm a Bad-Ass Mother Fucker!"

* * *

_77\. Professor Flitwick will not perform tricks for money._

"A cartwheel?"

"No."

"A handstand?"

"No!"

"A back handspring?"

"Merlin, Miss Weasley, no!" Flitwick said with a violent shake of his head. "No!"

"But you're so little... like one of the people Hermione showed me Muggle pictures of. She said in Muggle London, you could watch short people like you wear big red shoes and a red nose, and perform tricks for money." Ginny's eyes lit up. "I could pay you-"

"No!"

* * *

_78\. I will not tell Umbridge "Voldemort says, 'Hi,'" every time I see her._

"Did you  _have_  to say what BAMF stood for?" Hermione asked Ron in anger at they made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "You couldn't have just left it at that?"

"He asked!" Ron argued.

"No he did not! He asked  _why_  you did it."

Ron grumbled, "Same thing." They walked through the door. "BAMF!" Ron yelled again, gathering the attention of Umbridge and his classmates.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Did you have to do that  _again_?"

"It's on the list."

"But you already did that-" Umbridge began to walk over to them.

"The list says every time," Ron pointed out.

"But-"

"No."

"That's not-"

"So what?"

"You can't-"

"Oh, just get a room!" Harry said with a roll of his eyes as he brushed past Umbridge. "Oh, and Professor." Umbridge turned toward the Boy Who Lived expectantly. "Voldemort says 'hi.'"

* * *

_79\. I'm not allowed to get into fights._

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Mudblood and the weasel," a voice drawled from behind them after class that day. "Have you two gotten a room yet?" His cronies started to laugh.

"Clever, Malfoy," Hermione said, grabbing Ron by the arm and pulling him away.

"Where are you going? Are you running away because you can't take the heat," he laughed again.

Hermione stopped; she'd had enough of him. She was having a bad enough day as it was. She had gotten an A on her potions essay. An _A!_  What was wrong with her? And on top of that, the Gryffindors were already teasing her about Ron... when nothing was going on! She  _really_  did not need Malfoy to start in on her.

So she punched him.

Again.

* * *

_80\. I am not allowed to hire Sirius Black to chase Trewlawney around the school in his dog form_

Professor Trelawney was going to die.

At least, that's what she believed. For the third time that week, her teacup had the Grim at the bottom. Yesterday, she had woken to find the Grim in her crystal ball... and it wouldn't go away. Even when she tried looking for something else in her future!

As she was walking out of the castle one day, shaking with nerves, Harry and Ron approached her. "Morning Professor," they said. She let out a little shriek, jumping in fear at the possibility of her untimely demise -

And then paused when she realized nothing dire had occurred. "Oh." she sighed with relief. "It's just you two."

"Are you all right, Professor?" Ron asked, fighting a grin.

"Yes, yes I'm fine. I just - Oh dear Merlin!" With a shaking hand, she pointed off into the distance. "The Grim! It's the Grim! No!" And with that, she started running towards the Quidditch pitch, hoping to escape the horrible Grim...

Ron turned to Harry. "So what do we owe Sirius for doing this?"

Harry shrugged. "Not much. He wanted us to tell Fred and George to send him another one of those bones they got him for Christmas. Apparently, he lost his."


	10. Numbers 81–90

_81\. Shouting 'constant vigilance' at first years as a warning before hexing them is not acceptable._

Ron Weasley was  _not_  in a good mood. He'd accidentally overslept, burnt his toe in the shower, and now he was running late for potions. Potions! Snape was going to _kill_ him.

As he sprinted down the staircase, stumbled around the corner, and dove towards the dungeons, he was forced to come to an unceremonious halt. For there, flooding the hallway that led to his potions classroom, were a slew of first year students mindlessly milling about. They moved slowly, like a sea of sloths clinging to each other for dear life, unwilling to give up the space they'd staked out. Ron's stomach dropped; there was no way he'd make it in time. Unless...

With a renewed sense of determination, Ron stepped forward, raised his wand, and shouted, "Constant vigilance!" Then he began to force his way through the crowd, cursing the bewildered first years out of his way as he went.

* * *

_82\. I'm not allowed to scream in the middle of the night for no reason._

Ron Weasley was exhausted. After procrastinating endlessly on his Charms paper, he'd had to write the entire eight foot essay in one night. As he stumbled up the stairs and into the bedroom he shared with the other Gryffindor boys, his eyelids began to droop, coming closer and closer to closing.  _This is the_ last _time I study until four o'clock in the morning,_  he thought to himself as he pulled back the covers of his bed and climbed in, still fully dressed. Hermione was barking mad for staying up late night after night. All he wanted to do was sleep...

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Ron's eyes snapped fully open, and within a moment he had jumped from his bed. He darted over to where Harry slept and flicked on the light, prepared to find his friend writhing about in agony, a vision fresh on his mind. His heart thudded; the last time Harry had screamed like this, Arthur Weasley had nearly been killed by Nagini. "Harry! Harry are you okay? Is it You-Know-Who? Is he..." He trailed off, his eyes coming to rest on Harry's calm demeanor. "Harry?"

"Hello," Harry said, giving his best mate a small smile.

"Bloody hell," Seamus groaned. Harry's scream had woken the whole room. "Must you  _always_  scream in the middle of the night?"

"Go back to bed, Seamus," Dean muttered, already rolling over in his bed.

"Harry," Ron said slowly, "are you all right?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine, Ron. How are you?"

"Good. Good, yeah... Harry, why did you scream?"

Once again, the Boy-Who-Lived shrugged. "Dunno," he said with a grin. "It seemed like the thing to do."

"Right, okay. Yeah... One more thing." Ron smacked his best mate on the top of his head, a snarl building up in the redhead's throat. "Don't you  _ever_  do that again!"

"Well, maybe next time you could not come home at four in the morning," Harry countered, swatting Ron's hand away.

"And maybe next time," Seamus snapped, "you  _both_  could shut the hell up!"

* * *

_83\. When being interrogated, I am not to wave my hand and announce "These are not the droids you are looking for."_

"Ginny Weasley! I can't believe you, hiding Madam Pomfrey's supply of chocolate," McGonagall gestured angrily to the pile of chocolate on top of the redhead's bed. "What on earth were you thinking?"

Ginny quickly looked to the chocolate, looked to her professor, and looked back to the chocolate again, not wanting to confess to her crime. Thinking quickly, she made a decision, a decision to use the unique talents of a true wizard.

Wavering her hand in front of McGonagall's face, she said calmly, "These are not the droids - er, candies - you are looking for."

* * *

_84\. I am not to substitute, alter, hide, or otherwise tamper with Professor Dumbledore's candy._

An emergency meeting was called one Saturday afternoon late in January. The entire school was forced to attend and spend their lunch hour in the Great Hall, waiting with baited breath to find out what was wrong.

"You reckon the school's been threatened?" Ginny asked with a frown.

"Again?" Hermione and Harry said at the same time.

"No, that can't be it," Fred said, his eyebrows furrowed in wonder. "We would be locked up, if that were the case."

Ron shook his head. "Well then what the bloody hell-"

They were interrupted as the doors to the Great Hall banged open. Dumbledore stormed in, his face red with ire. No one had ever seen Dumbledore this mad, but even Harry. The students of Hogwarts were shocked to see the furry etched out upon the old man's face, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Who did it?" he yelled. "Who took my lemon drops?"

Fred and George shrunk down in their seats, hoping the headmaster would forget they were there.

"Seriously?" Ginny muttered, looking at her brothers. She spoke softly, trying to avoid Dumbledore's attention. "Why would you do that?"

"Well you took Pomfrey's chocolate without a problem," Fred confessed. "We just thought we could one-up you. You know, for the list. Apparently, we were mistaken..."

* * *

 _85\. When asked a question by Professor Snape I will not ask him to get the answer by_ Legilimency _._

"Who knew that Dumbledore would flip out about the candy?" Ron whispered to Harry the next afternoon in Potions class. "He usually seems mellow..."

"Really, I feel bad for Fred and George. All of those detentions..." Harry said, shaking his head as Snape droned on. "I actually feel  _glad_ they didn't reveal the whole list in one go. Can you imagine if one of  _us_ had tried to take Dumbledore's lemon drops?"

Ron made a face. "Actually, mate, you could probably get away with it."

"I'm not that sneaky-"

"But you  _are_ Dumbledore's favorite."

"Would you two stop talking?" Hermione hissed. "You should be paying attention!"

"Aw, come on Hermione," Ron whined. "This class is boring!"

"That doesn't matter! This might be on the O.W.L.'s!"

"But-"

"Dear Merlin, just stop fighting and get a room," Harry snapped.

"We weren't bloody fighting!"

"You were about to-"

"Mr. Potter," Snape interrupted, drawing everyone's attention back to the Golden Trio in the last row. "What, may I inquire, is so much more important than the lesson?" He tapped his foot impatiently.

Harry's eyes grew wide at having been caught. "Well sir," he said slowly. "Perhaps you could use _Legilimency_ to find out. That way I can practice my  _Occlumency_."

Snape blinked for a second, surprised by Harry's audacity, but then he spoke. "I would take off house points for the cheek, Mr. Potter, but I know you're going to get what you deserve in terms of embarrassment and ridicule once everyone realizes just how bad at _Occlumency_ you truly are."

* * *

_86\. Bringing fortune cookies to Divination does not count as extra credit._

"Mr. Weasley, what  _are_  these?" Trelawney asked, a confused look on her face.

"Fortune cookies, Professor," Ron said, holding out the tray to his teacher. "They tell your future. Want one?" She sniffed, before taking a cookie and staring at it expectantly, as though her eyes alone could reveal their secrets. Not that Ron would ever admit it, but he'd simply stared at the cookies too when Hermione had first brought them over. "You have to break it in half, Professor."

"Ah," Trelawney said, snapping the cookie. She couldn't read the paper by herself, despite the huge glasses she wore, and had to find even bigger glasses to see the slip. "'You will soon have good fortune,'" she read, puzzled.

Ron nodded. "See, aren't they brilliant? I brought enough for everyone. I was hoping I could get extra credit with them..."

Trelawney scoffed. "Are you mad? This Confucius... he obviously knows nothing about the art of Divination. I shall not have good fortune. I've seen the Grim."

* * *

_87\. Voldemort does NOT need a hug._

_Dear He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named aka You Know Who aka the Dark Lord aka Tom,_

_We understand that your life is exceptionally difficult right now - given that you were considered_ dead _less than a year ago - however, we feel that your anger and genocidal tendencies are a little extreme. Killing Muggle-Borns and taking over the world won't win you the respect and recognition you so clearly crave. All it will do is make people dead. And that's bad._

_So we have come up with an alternate solution that we'd like you to consider! We call it give-You-Know-Who-a-hug day! On such a day, you would stand in the center of Diagon Alley and wizards and witches from all over the community would show up to give you a hug. This would help to illustrate their respect and appreciation for you, and it would remove the need for you to revolutionize the wizarding world in order to show your power. Really, we all know that you're a strong wizard without the excessive violence. You don't need to keep proving it to us. We know._

_We hope that you'll consider our proposal, for we find it to be an ingenious solution to this pesky brewing war._

_Cheers!_

_-WWW_

* * *

_88\. Asking Professor Flitwick if there is a charm to remove clothing is wrong on so many levels._

Ginny raised her hand high one afternoon in Charms class. "Yes, Miss Weasley?" Flitwick squeaked.

"Professor, I have a serious problem, and I was wondering..." she trailed off, portraying an innocent air. "If I asked it, would you answer honestly?"

Flitwick's eyes grew wide at this statement. Crap. This was a teenage  _girl_  asking him to help solve her personal problems in front of his class. What on earth was he supposed to do about this? "Um, maybe now might not be the best time for this, Miss-"

"See," Ginny continued, acting as though she hadn't heard. "There's this guy I really like, and he likes me too, but it's complicated..."

"And you want to know what to do," Flitwick said, paling slightly. He was  _so_  not equipped to deal with this sort of thing-

Ginny blinked. "Actually, no," she said firmly. "I already know what to dot. What I don't know is an easy charm to remove clothing. Do you know any?" If it was possible, Flitwick paled even more.

* * *

_89\. I am not allowed to call Peeves Casper the Friendly Ghost._

"What's this I hear about you wanting to get down and dirty with someone, Ginny?" Ron asked his little sister that day, his face as red as his hair. The two of them and Harry were walking to lunch after Quidditch practice.

"Who uses the phrase 'down and dirty?' It's a bit American, dear brother." Ginny glanced at Ron and saw that he was clearly not amused. She sighed. "Oh, calm down, Ron. He didn't actually give me a spell," Ginny said casually as they passed a taunting Peeves.

Ron stopped. "Wait a minute. That means there  _is_  a guy?" Ginny cringed, as if she wished he hadn't picked up on this. "Who? It had better be a first year, or I swear to Merlin, I'll-"

"Oh, hey Casper," Harry said suddenly, giving Peeves a wave. He was glad to draw attention away from the feuding siblings. Ginny was cool and all, but Ron was his best friend; he didn't want to get dragged into an argument by proximity.

Peeves stopped suddenly, cocking his transparent head to the side. "What did you call me, Potty?"

Harry shrugged. "Your new name."

* * *

_90\. I'm not allowed to scream "Run Forest, run" as the teachers sprint off to stop a crisis._

Hermione was tired.

School had only been back in session for a few weeks, and it seemed that every professor had decided that their class was not only the most important, but the one that needed to give out the most homework.

Of course, none of them could best Snape in giving out obscene amounts of work, but some came pretty close.

Hermione walked slowly to Arithmancy and contemplated the apocalypse that surely was happening since she was actually complaining (albeit mentally), about school. Suddenly, a bang went off on the first floor. McGonagall and Snape both jumped from her classroom at the same time and began running towards the marble staircase.

She wondered what the two of them were doing together... but her suspicions could wait until later. Instead, she jumped to the side as they sprinted past, and yelled, "Run Forest, run!"


	11. Numbers 91–100

_91\. I will not use the Whomping Willow to perform a Tarzan swing._

"Ohhhhhahhohh... Oh! Ow, Merlin, that hurt!"

"I told you to avoid the branches," George said as he grabbed ahold of the vine in front of him and took his own swing. "Whoohoo! Ow!"

"Not so easy, is it?" Fred smirked at his brother. "And since when does Tarzan yell 'whoohoo?'"

"Since now." Suddenly, George spotted a lone figure walking towards the tree hesitantly. "Hey Hermione, what's up?"

"What are you doing now?" she called up to them skeptically.

"George! That's not Hermione," Fred admonished. He turned back to the brunette who stood far enough away to avoid getting hit. "Hey Jane," he said seductively. "Want to take a ride on my vine?"

Even without the sexual connotation, Hermione wasn't stupid enough to fall for that.

* * *

_92\. I may not question Ernie as to where 'Bert' is._

It was a drunken Dumbledore's Army meeting that did it.

After Christmas break, everyone was glad to have the DA meetings once again as a constant in their lives. So they decided to let loose instead of learn anything new. While Hermione was originally against the idea of fun over learning, she eventually loosened up... once the Weasley twins brought the fire whisky in.

The bookworm laughed uncontrollably on the floor, completely unable to hold her liquor - unlike the rest of them. Ernie approached her, sitting down besides Hermione in an attempt to calm her down.

"Oh Merlin," she squealed when she saw him. "Ernie, oh Ernie! Where's Bert, Ernie? Where's Bert?" Ernie, not being a Muggle-born, had no idea what Hermione meant. Still, he knew enough to assume he'd been insulted somehow. "Where's Bert, Ernie?" Hermione promptly started to giggle again.

It was at that drunken Dumbledore's Army meeting that everyone decided to never let Hermione drink again.

It was also there that Fred and George got the pictures they were going to blackmail Hermione with later in her life.

* * *

_93\. I am not to conjure the words "DRINK ME" onto the vial of any potion in Snape's classroom._

"Are you ready?" Harry muttered from the doorway of the storage cupboard.

"Almost," Ron whispered, grabbing the love potion and putting the label on it.

"Hurry up," Harry snapped nervously. "We don't want to get caught!"

"Done! Let's go." They bolted from the classroom, never looking back. Once they were far enough away, Ron turned to Harry. "So, do you think anyone's going to fall for it?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno. I hope so, though."

Less than a week later, Goyle was in the Hospital Wing for a day, having drunken a 'bottle that told me to drink it' and consequentially professed his internal love with Professor Minerva McGonagall.

* * *

_94\. I will not give Voldemort a toupee to hide his baldness._

"Master... Master, please. I-"

The Dark Lord's lip curled as he glared down at his sniveling servant in disgust. "So," he hissed, "you really wish to disobey me, Wormtail?" He began to pace, circling the trembling man like a hawk circling its prey. "You really think it wise to disturb me when I quite clearly told you not to?"

"Master, no! P-please, please forgive me!" he stammered as he squeezed his eyes shut. "But, I thought you'd want to know... a p-package arrived for you t-today. By owl. Please-"

The Dark Lord placed one of his gnarled and worn hands on Wormtail's shoulder. He bent down low, drawing his face up against the quaking man's cheek. "Did it now?" He ran a long, crooked finger down the man's throat. "Well? What are you waiting for? Bring it to me!"

He pulled back, and Wormtail squeaked in relief. "Yes, of course. Of course, Master." He bowed and reached behind him, pulling out a small white box. "Here. Here it is."

"Hold it," the Dark Lord said as he raised his wand, scanning the foreign object for curses or dark enchantments. Upon finding nothing, he gestured to Wormtail. "Open the box," he said, his eyes trained on the bright white lid. "Do it."

Nodding frantically, Wormtail reached down and pulled the lid from the box, terrified that something would spring forth and attack him... but nothing happened. He cautiously reached inside the box and pulled a large black wig from it. "What?" he muttered to himself, before grabbing hold of the note that lay at the bottom of the box.

"Read it," the Dark Lord spat, his eyes forming a rough glare as he stared at the toupee.

Wormtail swallowed. "As you wish, Master." He took a deep breath and began to read the note aloud:

_To He-Who-Really-Needs-a-Hobby,_

_We just thought you might like this. It'll be easier for others to take you seriously if you aren't bald._

_Cheers!_

_-WWW_

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed, becoming nothing more than two slits as he glared at Wormtail. "Find them," he said. His voice was soft, dangerous. "Find them and bring them to me. They will pay for what they've done. Oh yes," he hissed. "They will pay."

* * *

_95\. I am not allowed to add "That's what she said" to the end of Snape's every sentence._

"Today, we shall be working with dragon scales," Snape droned on at the beginning of his lesson for fifth years. "One must actually use their  _minds_  when dealing with the scales. They are long, and very powerful."

"That's what she said."

Snape's head whipped in the direction of the voice as around him, all of the Muggle-borns and half-bloods laughed. What was so funny about that? Shaking his head, he kept a careful eye on everyone as he began to speak again. "You must handle them delicately."

"That's what she said."

Again, the class began to laugh. Snape narrowed his eyes on the left half of the room. He almost had the culprit... "In order for the potion to work, before you add them, you must stroke the side gently-"

"That's what she said."

Snape glared at the Gryffindor boy. "Detention, Mr. Weasley. For speaking nonsense and hindering my performance."

In retrospect, Ron should have kept quiet. But the opportunity was  _way_  too good to pass up. He grinned. "That's what she said."

* * *

_96\. I'm not to tell first years that kissing Professor Umbridge will magically turn her into a nicer person._

Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister himself, was in shock. Not only were students still disobeying her Educational Decrees, but it appeared they were taking them as a challenge to see who could defy the most! That was not at all what she had intended. No, if anything she'd been trying to make the school a more orderly place, not the nightmare it was turning into.

But her shock didn't stem from the discipline-starved children or their rebellious ways. Umbridge's shock came from the fact that she kept  _getting kissed_. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, even Slytherins all came up to her at random intervals throughout the day and kissed her on the cheek. All of the students were first years, and all of the students looked rather disappointed afterwards, as though they'd expected her to start snogging them! It was obscene, it was uncalled for, and she was not going to tolerate it!

And then it got worse.

One day, as she walked briskly through the corridor, she became aware of a hushed conversation occurring behind a suit of armor. Curious, she stopped and strained her ears.

"No!" an older student's voice snapped. "It's not rubbish. You're just doing it wrong!"

"You said a kiss!" a young female voice protested angrily. "That's what we did!"

"Yeah," the older boy said with a snort. "On the  _cheek_. You really think that counts?"

"You mean... on the  _lips_? Are you  _mad_?" a young male said in horror.

"Do you want to break the spell or not?"

Umbridge's eyebrows rose. Spell? What spell? Were these idiotic children playing with magic?  _Well_  she thought to herself, a small smile forming over her toad-like features.  _This certainly won't do at all._  Clearing her throat, she made her presence known to the three students behind the suit of armor... Er, the  _two_  students, anyway. It appeared the older one had managed to slip away...

 _Drat_ , she thought, before smiling sweetly down at the two first years.  _Oh, well. I'll get him eventually._  Out loud, she said, "Well, well. What seems to be going on here? You're not planning anything improper, I hope. Because then, you see, I'd have to punish-"

She was abruptly cut off, however, as the young first year boy clenched his eyes shut, stood on his toes, leaned forward, and kissed her square on the mouth.

Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the two in front of her, both of whom were groaning in disappointment. "What, in the name of  _Merlin_ -"

"Sorry, Professor," the boy said, sighing. He spoke quickly, as though he were repeating something that he'd rehearsed. "Draco Malfoy told us that if we kissed you on the lips, you'd become a nicer person."

As Umbridge gaped at the pair of them in shock, from around the corner, Ron Weasley silently laughed at the look of horror in the old toad's eyes.

* * *

_97\. Voldemort does not wish to appear as the "before" for a line of cosmetics._

"Step right up! Come and get WWW cosmetics," Fred called into the crowd of excited spectators during one lunch period.

"Are you looking ugly lately?" George said as everyone focused in on the twins' speech. "Dry skin? Red eyes? Pale and in serious need of a tan?"

"Sort of like this guy," Fred said as he waved his wand. A picture of the Dark Lord himself blew up on the stone wall.

The crowd roared with laughter at the implication the twins were making. "See, we can help," George said with a grin. "Buy some of WWW cosmetics today! They're great for-"

"Hold it right there!" Everyone held their breaths, turning as one to view Umbridge push her way through the crowd. "WWW? That was the same logo as the one on the Halloween posters! Did have something to do with that?"

Fred sighed and turned to his brother. "I'll tell you one thing, mate. She's got one heck of a memory..."

* * *

_98\. I am not to scream "VOLDEMORT!" at any time._

It was a sunny afternoon in mid-February. The birds were singing, the Whomping Willow was hitting things, and many students were outside, enjoying their day off by sitting under a tree or playing catch on the grass-

"Voldemort! VOLDEMORT!"

Students jumped to their feet to see none other then Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, standing on the steps that led to the castle. He was screaming at the top of his lungs and waving his hands above his head like a maniac. Panic ensued, as some people ran wildly to escape from Voldemort's supposed attack. Others didn't move didn't move at all, for they still believed that Voldemort hadn't returned.

Amidst the chaos, Neville lost his toad. Again.

* * *

_99\. I will not start a rumor saying that Professor Snape sings "I'm too sexy for my robes."_

Snape was starting to get annoyed. There he was, being his usual gruff and intimidating self, and yet all of the fourth year students he was teaching just continued to laugh... at  _him_. What the bloody hell was going on?

He couldn't tolerate any more of the laughter, the fun. Where did they get off having a good time in his class? With a growl, Snape pushed the sleeves of his robe back and slammed his hands down on his desk.

"What," he snapped, "is so funny?" After the slightest of hesitations, a grinning Ginny Weasley raised her hand in the air. "Yes?" he glared at her.

"Professor," Ginny asked smoothly, "is it true that you sing "I'm too sexy for my robes _"_  while in the shower?"

Snape stopped breathing for a moment as the blood drained from his face. " _What_?"

"Professor," another boy said, raising his hand as he spoke, "is it true that you  _take_  showers?"

* * *

_100\. I will not turn Malfoy into the amazing bouncing ferret when he insults me._

Monday mornings were always rough. Dealing with Draco Malfoy first thing, however, made it all worse. "Malfoy, you can't take off points because we didn't acknowledge your presence. That's ridiculous," Hermione huffed in anger as Ron looked on.

Draco shrugged, a grin playing across his face. "That's ten more points, Granger, for talking back to me. You want to lose more?"

Hermione set her jaw as the blond turned around, that annoying smirk still on his face... Ron turned to leave, but Hermione stared after the boy. Holding her wand in front of her and pointing it directly at Malfoy, she muttered a spell...

With a bang, Draco Malfoy disappeared, and in his place stood a ferret.

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said in wonder as the bookworm began to bounce the ferret up and down in anger. "How did you learn to do that?"

She shrugged, accidentally causing Draco to fly into a wall. "Moody taught me."


	12. Numbers 101–110

_101\. I may not sell Professor Umbridge's punishment quill to Ravenclaw._

Muggleborn Ravenclaw first year Mary Heart felt like she was visiting a creepy drug dealer. The lying, the sneaking, the illegality of it all... But she couldn't help it; the little girl wanted that fascinating, wicked quill so badly...

"Wait a second," Fred paused as Mary attempted to hand over the twelve sickles in exchange for the bloody quill. "How good are you at poetry?"

Mary blinked in surprise. "What does _that_  matter?" she asked in a slow voice. "I've never done poetry before. I just want the quill."

Fred and George exchanged glances before reluctantly handing the quill over to Mary. George shook his head. A Ravenclaw who had never produced good poetry before... now that was disappointing.

* * *

_102\. I am not allowed to lock Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in a closet to see if hot sex will occur._

Fred came back to the entrance to the Room of Requirement from the kitchens to find his brother George sitting on the floor. Two pairs of Extendable Ears had slithered up and under the door, and his twin had one of the ears pressed firmly agains the side of his head. "Anything yet?" Fred asked his brother as he handed him a sandwich.

George shook his head. "No. All Malfoy has done so far was blame Harry for getting him locked in the closet."

"Not even a fistfight? With the way those to go at it, I'm surprised they haven't already exploded in passion."

George snorted. "I don't know if I want them to get together or not. I don't think it's going to happen, though."

Fred groaned. "Great. That sounds completely-"

"Shh!" George demanded, suddenly excited. "Wait, something's happening... Oh." With a sigh, George dropped the Extendable Ear. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

"What?" Fred asked nervously.

George rolled his eyes. "They're exchanging 'your mum' insults. And bad ones, at that."

* * *

_103\. I am not allowed to set my teachers on fire._

Harry and Ron were nervous. No, it was more than that; the two fifth year boys feared for their lives. What they were about to attempt was so dangerous, so deadly, that they weren't entirely sure they'd survive the aftermath of their actions.

They were about to set Professor Snape on fire.

Well, they were going to  _try_ , anyway. If all went well, Snape's robes would soon be scorching, and he'd have no idea why. But as Ron and Harry were both aware, Severus Snape was a very intuitive man, and he was rarely caught by surprise. The chances of them succeeding in this daunting task were so low that not even the biggest gambler in the wizarding world would bet on their triumph. But this task was on the list. It needed to be done.

"Why couldn't Fred or George have done this one?" Ron muttered out of the corner of his mouth during one particularly long Potions class. He stirred his lime green brew counterclockwise as he spoke. "It's their bloody idea. Can't they do it?"

"Of course not. That would be too easy for us, wouldn't it? Merlin forbid they actually give us the  _easy_  tasks," Harry said with a small roll of his eyes.

Ron just shook his head. "Not going to lie - I'm scared, mate. Snape will absolutely  _murder_  us if we get caught."

"I know."

"It'll be a slow, torturous, painful murder-"

"I know."

"They'll never find the bodies."

"I  _know_."

"What do we do, Harry? How are we going to do this?"

Harry shrugged, inhaling deeply. He briefly shut his eyes, allowing his fear and nerves to consume his being for a moment... before his eyes snapped open and he resigned himself to his fate. "Together," he said quietly. "We'll do it together. As we're meant to."

Ron nodded. "Together."

"You ready?"

"I'll never be ready," Ron said wryly.

"Incendio on three, right? Take aim." Both of the boys pointed their wands at Snape's back as their professor bent over Neville Longbottom's smoking cauldron. "And... one. Two. Thr-"

At that moment there was a bright flash of light and smoke began curling up in plumes from the depths of Neville's cauldron. His fire sputtered, spat, and spewed out flames across the room... and onto Snape's robes. As the dark, imposing wizard put the fire out and turned his glare on a cowing Neville, Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"Well," Harry said after a brief pause. "I think that counts, don't you?"

"Absolutely. Definitely counts."

"We accomplished our task."

"Good. Yeah... So, moving on."

* * *

_104\. Adding the name Bueller to Professor Binns' attendance list is cruel._

"Abbot," Professor Binns droned. He was starting his fifth year class off the way he always had: by taking attendance.

"Here!"

"Brown."

"Here."

"Bueller." Silence. The students looked to one another in confusion, wondering who this phantom Bueller was. "Bueller?" Professor Binns tried again. "Bueller?"

It was at this point that Hermione lost it; she was laughing too hard from his priceless imitation.

* * *

_105\. I am not allowed to bow before Snape and say, "Oh mighty Half-Blood Prince, how may I be of service?"_

Harry couldn't wait for the day's private lesson with Snape to be over and done with. Occlumency was  _not_  something that he enjoyed, and why he was forced to learn the art from  _Snape_  of all people...

After a brutal attack on his mind, Snape glared down at him. "You're too weak. You aren't focused. You have to listen to what I've been telling you all along, Potter. You have to do what I tell you, understand?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead choosing to bow down in front of Professor Snape and let him in on something Fred and George had found out a few years back. "Fine. Oh mighty Half-Blood Prince, how may I be of service?"

* * *

_106\. I'm not allowed to take house points from Slytherins for "being too god-damn short"._

"Hey you," Ron said, pointing to a Slytherin first year. "Get me that book on the shelf, would you?"

The Slytherin reached for a moment before shrugging helplessly. "Can't reach it," he said as he turned on his heel and walked away.

"Five points from Slytherin," Ron shouted after him. "For being too god-damn short," he muttered as he used The Force to summon the book.

* * *

_107\. I am not allowed to play "musical dorms," especially with different houses._

McGonagall's eyes were wide with surprise when she stepped into the Gryffindor common room late one Thursday evening. Her mouth dropped open, her cheeks burned with fury, and her eyes fell immediately to the two biggest troublemakers the school had ever seen. "Fred and George Weasley!" 

Immediately, all of the chatter and laughter ceased, and the room became deadly silent. The twins exchanged knowing glances before they stepped away from the crowd, resigning themselves to the inevitable fate. "Yes, Professor?" George said meekly.

"Take a look around," McGonagall said, her voice low and even. "Does anything seem... amiss to you?"

The twins made a show of scanning the room, before they looked back at each other and shrugged. "Not really," Fred said.

"Everything appears to be in tip-top shape," George added.

"Right as rain."

"Perfectly normal."

"Nothing to see here."

"So you best be on your way-"

"Normal?" McGonagall interrupted. "Normal? So I suppose it's normal to find Miss Lovegood and  _her_  Ravenclaw friends curled up on your couches, and to see Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, and Miss Granger lounging about in the Hufflepuff dorm, while said Hufflepuffs are dispersed between the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw chambers!" she said, shouting the last bit.

George cringed. "Well, no. It's not normal for an everyday situation."

"But it  _is_  normal for what is going today," Fred protested.

"And what might that be?"

The twins simultaneously gave their Head of House a large grin, and then they said, "playing musical dorms, of course."

* * *

_108\. I will not add 'according to the prophecy' to the end of every sentence in Divination class, just to raise my grade._

"Harry Potter," Professor Trelawney croaked with a shake of her head. "My poor boy. You have bad luck coming your way..."

Harry rolled his eyes. Apparently, the old bat had forgotten about the Grim she'd seen. Took her long enough.

Ron turned to Harry. "Mate," he said somberly. "You're going to die. According to the prophecy."

Trelawney's mouth dropped open. "What prophecy? Why wasn't I informed of a prophecy?"

"The prophecy about how he'll, uh... defeat Voldemort... and then he'll die." Ron quickly made up. "According to the prophecy, that is."

"Oh," Trelawney said. "Right, well thank you for keeping me up to date, Mr. Weasley."

"No problem, Professor. It's my job. According to the prophecy."

* * *

_109\. I will stop referring to showering as "giving Moaning Myrtle an eyeful"._

Harry walked into Potions class half an hour late. He knew Snape would yell at him for his tardiness, but after that Herbology lesson he'd had and all of that dirt... he just couldn't stand it! He had to go get clean, dammit!

"Ten points from Gryffindor for excessive tardiness, Mr. Potter," Snape said from the front of the room.

Harry shrugged. "Sorry Professor. I was busy giving Moaning Myrtle an eyeful."

Snape was, at one point, a bad man who had seen many bad things, but the mental image this brought about was enough to scar him for life.

* * *

_110\. Crucifixes do not ward off Slytherins, and I should not test this notion._

Blaise Zabini was getting on Hermione's last nerve. Hell, even Malfoy had been leaving her alone lately (oddly enough), so why was Zabini taking over the ferret's job of bothering her to death? All she wanted was for him to let her be; was that so hard?

Apparently, it was.

"Hey Mudblood," Zabini called out. "Where's the rest of the Golden Trio? Have they finally gotten sick of you? I know I have!"

Spinning around, Hermione pulled a crucifix from her coat pocket and shoved it towards Blaise. "Beat it, creep," she growled, as Blaise looked on skeptically.


End file.
